


Love and Other Drugs

by 44TayLo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bruce and Tony are oversharing messes, Bruce is afraid of himself, Hallucinations, Illnesses, Insomnia, M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning Weed, The Tusko experiment was real, Tony's afraid of being alone, Vomiting, past cocaine use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44TayLo/pseuds/44TayLo
Summary: "'I’m weird about people touching the reactor,' he blurted out. He chewed his lip, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the way his fingers twitched with that admission.Bruce blinked, his body unfolding slightly. 'I don’t think that’s weird. That’s your heart, Tony. You shouldn’t let just anybody touch it.'Tony’s brows rose at the sentiment. They rose even further when Bruce began to blush lightly after the fact.'Sorry. That was…sorry. I’m one to talk, I guess.' He made a vague hand gesture. 'Maybe I’m projecting, I don’t know.'”Tony and Bruce are able to enjoy each other’s company for the first time since Bruce left New York. There’s a mysterious gamma pulse that needs tracking, and SHIELD suspects Sterns is behind it. Stuck together in the middle of nowhere, they make the best of things, indulging in each other’s poisons and exploring the chemistry between them. Things take a turn for the worse when it becomes apparent there's something wrong with Bruce, and Tony is left wondering if he’s about to lose him before he really had him at all.





	1. An Elephant on LSD Wrote this Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't even know what this is. It's just a fun little fic I've been plugging away at for a while that took on a life of its own.

Tony flopped lengthwise onto the couch and pulled out his phone, glaring at the lack of cell service. “This place is a dump.”

Instead of dignifying that statement with a reply, Bruce continued to set up the over-glorified Geiger counter. He thought their accommodations were fantastic, given that they were in the middle of a forest in Washington, of all places. They had Wi-Fi, electricity, and running water. Those amenities alone made the cabin better than some of the places Bruce had stayed while on the run.

The cabin they were staying in was a SHIELD safe house that was built far from any trails or resorts that might be frequented by tourists, and stocked with enough food for them to comfortably stay there for about three weeks if they rationed correctly. That meant that they didn’t have to worry about running into any civilians who might inquire about their task. It also meant that Tony was the only person he was going to see for possibly up to three weeks, and that had him nervous. As much as he liked Tony, the old adage about absence making the heart grow fonder tended to be true. And that meant that not enough absence could lead to the opposite of fondness.

Finally, the set up was finished and calibrated to be extremely sensitive to gamma radiation. It would be able to pick up the radiation signature from any gamma pulses, as well as the exact location of their origin. He’d have to keep his distance from it, or it’d pick up on his signature and sound the alarm that indicated a positive reading. If it did accidentally pick it up, he didn’t have to worry about it. He knew his gamma signature well, and the computer noted all of the different signatures picked up by the device, as well as their relative location. Still, accidentally triggering the loud siren would be incredibly annoying.

“Bruce. Bruce look at me.”

Bruce sighed, but didn’t look.

 “This is bullshit, and you know it,” Tony insisted.

Bruce rubbed at his eyes with a hand, pushing his glasses further up onto his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah this is bullshit,” he finally agreed. If Coulson hadn’t name-dropped Sterns, he wouldn’t have come at all. SHIELD had a sneaking suspicion that Sterns, now believed to be a gamma mutant due to his contact with Bruce’s blood, was behind the pulse. Bruce worried about what he could now be capable of, and couldn’t help but feel responsible. So, he’d agreed to be the one to locate the origin of the odd gamma pulses.

He hoped it wasn’t actually Sterns, and all of this worry would be for nothing. That seemed unlikely, though. SHIELD didn’t have anything on Sterns after the incident at Culver, and Bruce couldn’t think of any explanation other than that his blood had somehow mutated him beyond recognition.

He pushed those thoughts away.

“I mean, the cabin is actually really nice, but us being here at all is…”

“Bullshit,” Tony supplied.

“Yeah.”

Bruce finally stood up from the kitchen table, which was placed only a few feet away from the couch Tony was lounging on. The back of the couch faced him and concealed most of Tony (save for part of the man’s upper body), and so Bruce could hear Tony tapping his foot against the far arm rest before he could see it. As Bruce leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossing on top of it and his chin coming to rest there, he noted how the man could never be still. That generally neutral quality might eventually become irritating…

“But what if it is Sterns?” Bruce blurted out before he could stop himself.

Tony served him a doubtful glare. “What, Samuel Sterns? The mediocre college professor whose greatest achievement was built off of _your_ blood and created by implementing _your_ work? And then the antidote didn’t even actually work—”

“It sort of worked,” Bruce protested.

“Yeah, the same way the Tusko LSD experiment sort of worked. He had the dosage all wrong for Hulk’s increased rate of metabolism. And he calls himself a cellular biologist,” Tony scoffed.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You know my blood’s acidity was the main problem. It would have degraded the antidote eventually, no matter how large the dosage. And I’m not sure I like you comparing the Other Guy to an elephant on LSD.”

Tony laughed abruptly, a wide grin splitting his face. “Okay, hear me out--”

“You are not giving the Other Guy LSD,” Bruce deadpanned, drawing himself up to his full height so that he was no longer resting on the back of the couch.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting him do that by himself, but I’d totally drop acid _with_ him.”

Bruce folded his arms across his chest. “No.”

“That would be the most incredible trip of my life, Bruce, come on! I haven’t had anything stronger than liquor since MIT, but I’d make an exception for this.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Wait, weren’t you like fifteen at MIT?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “So? I was eight when I had my first drink.” The engineer’s tone had turned a bit defensive. He paused before continuing in what Bruce believed to be a feigned casual tone, “What can I say, I was a wunderkind in all areas of my life.”

“I think we lost track of the original point of this conversation,” Bruce said. He didn’t want to push Tony into talking about something that clearly made him uncomfortable. Neither of them seemed to relish the idea of talking about their demons.

“This conversation had a point? I thought this was playful banter.”

Bruce rolled his eyes again. He had a feeling he was going to be doing that a lot in the days to come. “Our conversations always have a point, Tony. That’s one of the reasons we work well together.”

Tony frowned, seemingly mulling that over.

“The point was Sterns. If he really was contaminated by my blood like Coulson said, who knows what he’s capable of.”

Tony stood up suddenly. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

“What?” Bruce asked, slightly alarmed. Tony looked very serious and very pissed.

“You’re bait.”

Bruce blinked. “Oh my God,” he said, things clicking into place. Sterns might be more likely to risk staying where he was if Bruce was around, even if he figured out SHIELD’s was on his tail. “But that hinges on him wanting more of my blood.”

“The guy is sending out fucking gamma pulses, Bruce. And who is SHIELD most likely to send to investigate and track a weak gamma signature?”

Bruce put his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Tony was pacing, now. Bruce still hadn’t looked up from his hands, but he could feel the other man’s manic energy begin to take over their small living space.

“Of course they could have just sent FitzSimmons or one of the other lab monkeys,” Tony muttered, “but no, they just _had_ to have the brilliant gamma specialist, Doctor Bruce Fucking Banner come pinpoint it for them.”

Bruce had also wondered why Coulson hadn’t asked Dr. Fitz or Dr. Simmons to go instead. It seemed a little below his paygrade. But then Coulson had said they were worried it might be Sterns, and Bruce knew he couldn’t turn the assignment down. Coulson had told them that they’d have to wait around for another pulse to come, and suggested he take Tony as backup, just in case it actually was Sterns. He believed it’d be best if Bruce avoided an incident if possible, and Bruce, of course, agreed. He’d also told Bruce that he and Tony were picked because there was no real risk of them getting radiation poisoning. Bruce was essentially a gamma battery, and Tony’s suit filtered out radiation. Steve would have been preferable to Tony, since he was also mostly invulnerable to radiation, but he was somewhere confidential taking out old Hydra strongholds.

“Why wouldn’t they just tell us this was their plan?” Tony asked, his pacing coming to an abrupt stop.

Bruce took a deep breath, opening his eyes to find Tony standing right in front of him. “Because I’d never agree to it. Sending me out here to figure out where the pulses are coming from is one thing, but using me as bait is too risky. If Sterns somehow got ahold of my blood…” Bruce trailed off, not wanting to speak aloud the horrors that flashed through his mind at the thought.

“Right. Right, you’re super possessive of your blood. Which is completely understandable!” Tony assured him when Bruce’s face twisted into a self-deprecating grimace.

“But we’re here now,” Bruce said.

“We are. So what do you want to do?”

“What if he already has my blood? This could just be a trap to get more.”

It was entirely possible that Sterns obtained a sample of his blood at Culver before he fled the scene. The man had been obsessed with his blood before he was likely mutated; Bruce didn’t want to think about how that obsession might have grown after being subjected to the effects of Bruce’s blood first hand. He could feel fear begin to settle heavily across his shoulders and tighten his muscles as it screamed at him to run.

“That’s a possibility.” Tony eyed Bruce carefully, staying uncharacteristically quiet. “Bruce. It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Bruce snapped. He sighed again, willing his body to relax. The unbidden image of Emil Blonsky’s mutated face surfaced in his mind’s eye. “Fuck. It can’t happen again. Not again.”

“We’ll fix it,” Tony said, and he was so completely convinced that Bruce almost believed him. “I’m going to get Coulson, or Fury, or who-fucking-ever is in charge over there up on the computer, and I’ll make them explain. Then you can decide what you want to do from there, alright?”

Bruce simply nodded.

~~~

Tony had been on a video call with Coulson for all of thirty minutes. Coulson confirmed everything that Tony had speculated, and insisted that this was the best course of action in order to find and contain Sterns. He was a little apologetic, but explained he’d expected them to figure out the plan eventually. “Better to act now and ask for forgiveness later,” he’d said. Tony knew that philosophy all too well, but chastised Coulson for it anyway.

When the call finally ended, Tony stood from the kitchen table. Bruce had left the cabin as soon as Coulson confirmed that SHIELD intended to use him as bait, and was now sitting outside on the ground.

Tony internally bemoaned the idea of sitting on the dirt floor of the forest. He did so anyway, and let the silence settle between them. Bruce was looking up at the stars. He followed suit. They were gorgeous, bright and numerous against the dark blue blanket that was the sky, framed by tree tops.

“I’ve never understood the appeal of camping, but the view is breathtaking,” Tony said softly.

Bruce hummed low in his throat. The starlight cast deep shadows over his face, making him look distorted, but somehow achingly human. “Did you ever go camping as a kid?”

Tony snorted, an obtrusive sound in the relative quiet. “Absolutely not. You?”

“No. I sort of appreciate it now, though.”

Tony let that statement hang, not sure how to respond. Circumstance and experience kept him from relating. “You seem calm,” he finally commented.

Bruce frowned, gaze never leaving the sky. “Seem being the operative word.”

Tony studied his expression for a lingering moment before stargazing again. Bruce’s feelings about the matter were carefully concealed by an expression of pure frustration. He had a feeling that was purposeful; it was easier to disguise emotions by burying them underneath a specific one than it was to pretend you didn’t feel anything at all. Tony had learned that at a young age. He’d had a feeling Bruce constantly did this with his anger, but now he was certain of it.

He kept those thoughts to himself, simply asking, “What do you want to do?”

“I think we should stay. We’re here already, and I’m sure there’s backup nearby—”

“There is,” Tony interrupted. “Coulson confirmed that. The Helicarrier is hovering close enough to send help, but apparently far enough to hopefully avoid being detected by Sterns.”

“Does that mean they have an approximate location for where he’s hiding?”

Tony puffed his cheeks up before exhaling loudly. “Not exactly. Just this side of the forest…ish. They still want us to figure out where the pulses are coming from to get his exact coordinates.”

Bruce chuckled darkly. “Fantastic.”

It was a while before Bruce spoke again, but the quiet between them was natural. That was unusual for Tony. Normally, he felt the need to fill silence and space with his being in order to stake a claim. In order to be seen. At the moment though, he felt content to just be. In fact, he felt almost peaceful under the giant trees surrounding them.

“I just keep trying to figure out Sterns’s play, you know?” Bruce finally said, breaking the quiet with his anxious voice. “He gets me out here to investigate gamma pulses, and then what? Does he know SHIELD suspects him? Or does he think they’d send me here even if they didn’t know whether or not the pulses were an actual threat?” Bruce shook his head. “I can’t figure it out. Even if he thinks SHIELD would send me here knowing he’s the one creating the pulses, what does he plan to do once I track him? It has to be a trap. I’m thinking we’re going to need the whole team when we find him, just to be safe.”

Tony nodded, taking Bruce’s concerns to heart. “I’ll let Coulson know he needs to have the team on standby, and I’ll send the message to Cap, too. Hopefully he’ll be done with Mission Impossible before shit hits the proverbial fan.”

Bruce finally turned his gaze away from the night sky to look at Tony, who followed suit. “Tony,” Bruce began but immediately cut himself off. He frowned, looking at the ground between them. “Thanks. For calling Coulson, and for everything else.”

Tony hitched a shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”

Bruce licked his lips, eyes still narrowed in a frown. “What I mean to say, is thank you for showing me kindness. It’s not something I’m used to, and amidst all the chaos, I don’t think I thanked you for letting me stay at the Tower after New York. So, thank you.”

Tony placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Seriously Bruce, don’t mention it. I’m treating you the way you deserve to be treated: like a human being. Also, I get super uncomfortable when people point out nice things I’ve done. It’s not great for my image.”

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” Bruce said with an uncertain laugh.

Tony’s stomach chose that moment to growl, prompting Bruce to raise an eyebrow and level him with an impish smile.

Tony simply shrugged again. “But if you want to show your thanks by cooking dinner, then by all means.”

Bruce’s smile turned more genuine, and he stood up with more fluidity and swiftness than a man his age had any right to be capable of. “That I can definitely do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	2. A Big Bag of Weed and Other Clichés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really long chapter. Whoops.

By day three, another gamma pulse had yet to appear, and Tony and Bruce had also fallen into a routine. Tony abhorred routine, but Bruce seemed to find a sort of calm in it. Tony usually spent most of the day using his Stark Pad to sketch new designs or to email Pepper about the company. He’d fall asleep whenever, and eventually wake up the next time Bruce made food.

Bruce had a healthier schedule. Tony was pretty sure he meditated in the morning, then did yoga before making them both breakfast. He’d brought a few books, and he’d sit there reading for a while, before grabbing the tablet Tony had brought him. He hadn’t taken one with him when he’d left the Tower a few days after the Battle of New York. Tony had offered him both a tablet and a phone, but he’d refused for fear of being tracked. By who exactly, Tony could only speculate. General Ross, he assumed. Bruce was too smart to believe SHIELD wouldn’t be able to track him again, which of course they had. This was proven when Natasha approached him once again.

So far, living in the tiny cabin wasn’t terrible. Tony was already going stir-crazy, but having a suit nearby helped to dissipate some of that. He wasn’t supposed to fly around and give away their location, but knowing he could potentially leave whenever he wanted to and be back at the Tower in a matter of hours was comforting. The biggest inconvenience (other than the lack of cell reception, of course) was the fact that there was only one bed in the cabin. Bruce had insisted he sleep on the couch, since he’d slept on the floor plenty of times. Tony didn’t argue too much about it; he had enough problems sleeping as it were. Given the dark circles under the physicist’s eyes, though, Tony could only conclude that Bruce wasn’t sleeping well, either. It made him feel  a little guilty about having the bed every night, though he knew that probably wasn’t what was keeping Bruce awake.

Currently, Bruce was reading on the couch. The book was relatively thin, and definitely not a work of non-fiction. Tony squinted at the cover, trying to piece together the title using only the bits of it that weren’t covered by Bruce’s fingers. He could make out the words “Neruda” and “Poem,” but that was about it.

“I am intensely bored,” Tony complained, slumping down onto the couch next to Bruce.

Bruce didn’t even look up from his book. “And I’m trying to read.”

Tony sighed, scooting closer to Bruce and letting his head rest on the other man’s shoulder so that he could catch a glimpse of what the physicist was reading. Bruce stiffened immediately. Tony straightened up, noting Bruce’s look of embarrassment with some concern. The other man continued to hold himself tightly, like he was trying to take up even less space than normal.

“Sorry,” Bruce began, his eyes uncertain behind his glasses. “I’m not used to, uh, people willingly touching me.” His expression grew rueful. “Well, at least not people with good intentions, anyway.”

That made Tony’s reactor ache, both in sympathy and the not-so faded memory involving Stane. Pushing that thought away roughly, he focused instead on making a mental note to try and give Bruce space. He’d do his best, but he knew he’d probably end up failing at least a few times. He tended to crave contact with people he trusted when he was stressed or exhausted. Physical reassurance did wonders for his anxiety.

Tony realized the silence between them was beginning to stretch on for an uncomfortable amount of time. And he really didn’t like that, because not a single lapse between them had felt uncomfortable thus far.

“I’m weird about people touching the reactor,” he blurted out. He chewed his lip, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the way his fingers twitched with that admission.

Bruce blinked, his body unfolding slightly. “I don’t think that’s weird. That’s your heart, Tony. You shouldn’t let just anybody touch it.”

Tony’s brows rose at the sentiment. They rose even further when Bruce began to blush lightly after the fact.

“Sorry. That was…sorry. I’m one to talk, I guess.” He made a vague hand gesture. “Maybe I’m projecting, I don’t know.”

Now, Tony felt out of his element. Only Pepper had ever likened the arc reactor to his heart before, though he knew there was an obvious connection between the device and the actual organ. He’d never expected like-minded, science-oriented Bruce to be so sentimental, though.

Tony tried to brush off the unfamiliar feeling of engaging in something that he didn’t understand. Well, he actually was familiar with that feeling when it came to other people and mundane, day to day things, but he’d never experienced it with Bruce.

“Projecting how?” he questioned, latching onto that piece of Bruce’s embarrassed reply.

Bruce blushed a darker shade of pink. “It’s nothing, really,” he muttered, taking off his glasses and setting them on the table. No doubt to give his hands something to do.

Tony sat up even straighter, pulling his feet onto the deep couch so that he was crouched with his knees spread wide. One of his knees brushed Bruce’s thigh, but this time the man didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, now you’ve piqued my interest. Come on, let’s have it.”

Bruce swallowed hard, looking down at his lap, and now it was clear that his embarrassment wasn’t trivial, but seated in deep rooted discomfort.  “I just have a tendency to love a little too hard a little too fast, that’s all. It happened a lot after the last time I saw Betty and it became clear that entertaining that fantasy, of her and I getting back together, wasn’t really an option, anymore. I guess I was thinking that I should be more careful about who I let touch _my_ heart…you know, figuratively…” Bruce trailed off, looking incredibly uncomfortable and refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

Tony rubbed at his mouth, his other hand tapping his knee. That was more information than he’d thought Bruce would share with him. The man was usually so private. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Their conversation in the Helicarrier had been so raw and real, and they’d known each other for hardly even a day. They were able to see each other, and Tony knew how intoxicating that feeling could be. It was rare for him to feel like somebody could see and appreciate, if not understand, all of him. He knew that Bruce must have felt similarly.

“Well, now I kind of feel like an ass for making you tell me that,” Tony admitted all the same.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You didn’t make me tell you anything,” he huffed. He seemed disproportionally agitated by Tony’s response, but at least he was meeting the engineer’s eyes, now. “I’m a grown man. I could have said no.”

“Yeah, but I pushed, and I’m sorry. And I sort of get the feeling you knew I probably wouldn’t have dropped it. You don’t have to tell me things if you don’t want to, you know.” Tony bit his cheek. He made a split second decision to reveal a little of himself to Bruce, in return. “I know I come off as if I don’t mind sharing anything and everything about myself. I do care. I don’t necessarily keep things secret, but I hide how things affect me.” He sighed, rubbing at his own tired eyes before meeting Bruce’s uncertain stare. “I don’t know,” he continued. “Everyone expects me to behave a certain way, and honestly it’s gotten to the point that I think I’m tricking myself into thinking I’m whole and uninhibited as much as I’m tricking everyone else. But fake it until you make it, right?”

Bruce blinked, he rubbed at his eyes a little and shook his head. “I’m sorry. That’s…I get that. I mean, I can only make myself smaller and unassuming for other people’s comfort so many times before I start to buy that lie, which is dangerous for me. I’m sure having a sort of celebrity persona feels similar in that respect. I’ve always had to try and convince people I’m something I’m not, even before the Other Guy, and… and I’m rambling.” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the couch. “I’m tired. Haven’t been sleeping very well. And even when I’m not exhausted, if you push a little and the dam bursts, I can’t reign myself in, and I’m sorry.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” Tony assured him, though he did have a squirming, sick feeling in his gut after his own little monologue. “I haven’t been sleeping well, either. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the bed?”

Bruce shook his head, even as he continued to rest it on the back of the couch. “I’m not sure if that’ll help at all. I haven’t had this much trouble sleeping in a long time.” He frowned. “My whole body just…hurts.”

Tony understood that feeling all too well. Fatigue eventually became like a second skin made out of lead if it went unchecked for too long. “Does sleeping next to someone help?” he asked.

Bruce finally sat up and opened his eyes. He licked his lips, carefully considering before answering, “Yes, actually.”

“Maybe we should share the bed? I mean, it isn’t a king sized mattress, but at least it’s not a twin.”

“I…you’re sure?” Bruce asked, clearly still uncertain.

Something twisted in Tony’s gut, and he dutifully ignored the feeling. “Positive as a proton.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose, but Tony could see the smirk he was trying to hide. “That was terrible.”

“Hey, I’m tired, too.”

“I uh, I brought something that might help us with that, actually,” Bruce said, standing up from the couch and moving to grab his duffle bag that sat by the wall. He unzipped the front pocket and retrieved something from it. Tony stood up to get a better look. As Bruce turned around, Tony realized the physicist was holding a bag full of marijuana.

“I don’t have the bongo drums on me, but I did bring the big bag of weed.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, though inwardly he was delighting in how Bruce quoted what he’d said on the Helicarrier. He hadn’t actually pegged Bruce as a stoner, and part of him wondered if he’d brought the weed as a joke.

“How is that going to help us not be tired?” he asked.

Bruce smirked, his mouth crooked and a devilish gleam in his eyes. “It’s not, but it should help us actually fall asleep.”

Tony held Bruce’s gaze for a moment longer before eyeing the bag doubtfully.

Bruce’s smirk fell, his brows drawing together. “Have you never smoked before?”

“Not weed, no.”

“Really?”

Tony sighed.

“Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean, you did ask if I smoke back on the Helicarrier, but still.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to assume.” Tony shrugged. He sucked on his teeth, pushing his insecurities aside. “The only drug I’ve ever done was coke, and that was during my first year at MIT.”

Bruce looked positively livid. “You would have been sixteen at the most!”

Tony worked his jaw at Bruce’s upset tone. “Well, everyone assumed I’d already done any and every drug you could imagine. I guess they didn’t feel irresponsible offering a sixteen year old cocaine, when they figured I’d already done it. And I loved it, you know. It gave me even more energy. I didn’t need to sleep, didn’t need to eat, went on a bit of a weekend bender.” He paused, furrowing his brows against the memory. “I did it again about a week later.” He didn’t want to keep talking, but at the same time he felt compelled. Tony had realized quickly that Bruce’s presence had a tendency to pull all parts of himself to the surface, for better or worse. It hurt in such a delicious way, he thought he might be addicted to it.

He decided to press on the wound a little harder.

“I don’t know if this stuff was different, or laced with something else, but it was bad. I don’t remember what happened. Rhodey had to come pick me up, I guess, and I woke up at his place. When I was sober, he told me I’d divulged a lot of information about personal things I never talked about. I haven’t tried any other drugs since.”

He paused again, this time to assess Bruce’s response. The other man hadn’t said a word, and now Tony saw that his expression was carefully blank. That was never a good sign with Bruce. Fuck.

Tony tried to explain, “I felt out of control, and not in a good way, you know? I know I’m not the poster child for ‘in control,’ but usually when I’m out of control I don’t know I’m out of control, or I still have some semblance of it.”

Bruce didn’t look like he understood. In fact, the man looked positively livid. Tony was about to say something else, what he wasn’t sure, when Bruce finally spoke. “Who the fuck gives a child cocaine?” he muttered, suddenly sitting back down on the couch. He breathed deeply, and Tony realized Bruce wasn’t mad at Tony for doing such a hard drug at such a tender age or judgmental of his inability to handle it, but was instead upset that someone had given it to him in the first place.

Bruce shook his head again. He opened the bag with overly careful movements, and began to roll two joints on the coffee table using papers he’d also extracted from his duffle (Tony tried to pretend he wasn’t staring when Bruce licked the papers). Bruce then stood back up and made for the cabin’s front door. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he said, “I think it’s in both of our best interests if I go outside and calm down. You don’t have to partake, but I wouldn’t mind company, regardless.”

“Probably shouldn’t smoke anyway. The reactor messed up my chest cavity,” Tony said by way of explanation, knowing Bruce was smart enough to fill in the rest. The way the reactor settled in his sternum affected his lungs, making it harder to breath.

Bruce nodded as he made to open the door.

Tony left the couch and joined Bruce in a few strides. “I’ll come with you though, and revel in how I was right about the big bag of weed.”

 Bruce didn’t say anything, but Tony knew he was smiling. They sat down outside by the cabin, where they had been only four days prior. As Bruce fished a lighter from his pocket and lit up, Tony couldn’t help but ask, “So if Sterns makes a play right now, you’d still be able to bring out Big Green, right? I mean, the other Big Green,” he clarified, nodding to the joint between Bruce’s lips. Jesus, the guy had lips that were way too nice to be around something as phallic as a joint.

Bruce took a long drag before pulling the joint away and exhaling smoke into the gentle breeze. The sun was still setting, and while they couldn’t see the sunset itself, they could see pink and orange hues tint the otherwise blue sky above the trees.

“Definitely. If smoking pot was all it took to keep the Other Guy at bay, I’d be a hardcore stoner,” Bruce assured him in a completely serious tone. He took another long drag, making Tony blink in surprise. He himself had never smoked pot, but he’d been around plenty of people who had, and they didn’t normally smoke a joint like a cigarette.

“It makes it a little easier, though,” Bruce admitted after exhaling again. He hummed, bringing the joint back to his lips. “Makes a lot of things easier.” He took another long drag.

Tony eyed the joint that was already half gone. “Are you trying to get stoned out of your mind right now? No judgment, just curious.”

Bruce chuckled. “My metabolism isn’t as fast as Steve’s, but it’s faster than a human’s. You were the one that brought up Tusko earlier, right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.

“Stoned you is sassy.”

Normally he would correct Bruce and assure him that he was human, just not a normal one. But he figured the mood needed to lighten up, rather than become serious again.

“I’m not even high yet, Tony.” He took another drag, a shorter one this time. “So you’ve never actually taken LSD, then?”

“I never said I had. I just said that I would if I was taking it with Hulk.”

Bruce hummed. “What about with me?”

“You would do acid with me?” Tony asked dubiously. Pot was one thing, LSD was something else entirely. From what Tony knew about the drug and hallucinogens in general, taking LSD together seemed intimate.

Bruce shrugged. “I took hallucinogens at Harvard. Betty and I volunteered for a psych experiment. It was…an interesting experience. I wouldn’t mind doing it again with someone I trust.”

Tony blinked. He didn’t know if he was more flattered or shocked by that admission. “That bad experience with coke involved some hallucinations. Not sure I’m the best person to drop acid with if cocaine is enough to give me a psychedelic experience.”

Bruce eyed him carefully before lighting the new joint in his mouth, and Tony shivered. “You can have hallucinations with almost any drug, even some strains of weed. And how you react, at least in my experience, has to do with who you’re with, and what kind of place you’re at emotionally.”

Tony swallowed hard. “I’m in a pretty good place right now.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving to the joint in his hand before shifting back to Tony. “You want some?”

Tony nodded, sitting up on his knees to take the joint from Bruce.

“Trust me,” Bruce said, before shifting so that they were thigh to thigh. “Breath through your mouth,” he instructed before taking the longest drag Tony had yet to see. With a mouth full of smoke, Bruce placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder to gently guide him forward, then brought his hands into a cupped position that connected both of their mouths. If Tony hadn’t already been following Bruce’s instructions, he would have gasped. Bruce slowly exhaled, pushing the smoke into Tony’s waiting mouth. Tony inhaled it, fighting the natural urge to cough, until Bruce’s hands fell away. Bruce didn’t return to his original spot, though. He stayed where he was so that his face was only a few inches away from Tony’s own.

“Might be easier on your lungs,” Bruce explained.

Tony inhaled sharply and did his best to ignore the way his stomach dropped. “Of course.”

Bruce took a long drag. He exhaled, smoke expelling quickly from his lungs, with a grin. “Now I’m actually a little high. And you’re right, high-me is, uh, sassy. But high-me is also more comfortable with people touching me.”

Tony blinked, the spell broken by Bruce’s admission. He pulled away so that he was back outside of Bruce’s personal space. “Did you bring weed because you know I have a hard time keeping my hands to myself, and you thought I’d stress you out?”

It was Bruce’s turn to blink, one hand running through his curls. He frowned. “I brought it because I haven’t smoked in years. I only like smoking with certain people, otherwise it gives me anxiety. Prefer to smoke by myself in nature. I figured I could do that if you didn’t want to smoke with me, so win-win situation, really.” Bruce paused, his expression turning scrunched and indicating some emotion Tony couldn’t place. “I only told you that because I know physical touch grounds you, and now I’m totally fine with that.”

“No, you’re not, you’re just high.”

Bruce blinked again, shaking his head. “Yeah…that’s my point?”

“You don’t actually want me to touch you, and that’s fine! I can handle that. I’m not a child who can’t keep their hands to themselves,” Tony insisted, frustration coloring his tone. Nobody could ever put up with him for more than a few hours at a time, at least not sober. Why had he thought Bruce was any different?

“I don’t…” Bruce shook his head yet again, and Tony was definitely starting to be able to tell that his friend was high. “I know that, Tony. You think I _want_ to almost jump out of my skin every time you rest your head on my shoulder or put your hand on my back? I don’t!” He put his head in his hands, his breathing suddenly sharp. “I don’t want my first thought to be that it’s Brian or Ross or Sterns and for my mind to scream that I’m not safe. I don’t want that.”

“Bruce…” Tony wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He didn’t want that for Bruce, either. And he thought he understood, now. Bruce wanted physical comfort as much as Tony did. Only, Bruce was usually unable to act on it because of his deep-rooted fear of being hunted and hurt.

Instead of talking, Tony gently gripped one of Bruce’s forearms, prompting him to look up from his hands. Tony scooted closer, so that they were once again thigh to thigh, and wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders.

Bruce sighed, his whole body relaxing and his body slumping so that his head rested on Tony’s chest. He closed his eyes, and Tony felt him shudder. “Wish I could do this sober,” he muttered.

“Wish you could, too, Big Guy,” Tony admitted. He rubbed Bruce’s arm in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He didn’t think he had said anything that should have affected Bruce this much, but he still felt guilty. Clearly, Bruce was very vulnerable when he was high. And even though that meant Tony wasn’t inherently at fault, he still felt like he should apologize.

 “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. ‘m not good at the whole touching thing,” Bruce mumbled.

“No, I mean I’m sorry I got upset. Anger’s usually your shtick.”

Bruce just grunted in response. After a moment, he shook his head. “It makes me anxious, sometimes.”

“You told me that. You said you could only smoke with certain people without getting anxious. I’m sorry I couldn’t be one of those people.”

And that was why he really felt like he needed to apologize. He wanted to be someone Bruce could be fully comfortable around, someone Bruce could trust to take care of him while he wasn’t in control. Tony looked back up at the stars. Shit, he’d really fucked this up.

Bruce snorted, prompting Tony to look down at his curly head. “Tony, you’re basically holding me. You are one of those people. You touch me, and you’re not afraid. You look at me and you see me, not just the Other Guy. You are one of those people.”

Well that…that didn’t sound like he’d fucked it all up. Tony pulled Bruce a little closer. “How many others are there?” he asked.

“Just Betty. Just you and Betty.”

Tony felt his reactor ache for the second time that day, but this time it felt like a good ache. Like it signified a feeling that had become so foreign, his heart now failed to recognize it properly. He realized he should fell apprehensive, but he only felt relaxed, sleepy, even. He must have gotten a little high after all.

“Would it help if I asked before I touch you when you’re sober?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. That would—” he interrupted himself with a yawn. “That would be good. Might not always say yes, but that’d be good.”

Tony grinned. It was a start, if nothing else. He thought he could handle not touching Bruce unless he asked, first. If asking first worked, all of that extra touching would be a great way to help Bruce with some emersion therapy.

It was Tony’s turn to yawn. “I think we should try to sleep,” he said.

Bruce snorted a laugh. “You want to sleep?” he asked dubiously.

“I know, it’s absurd. I think the weed worked, though.”

Bruce hummed. He turned in towards Tony, shifting so that his face was buried in his neck. “Bed sounds nice.”

Bruce’s breathe tickled Tony’s neck, making him shiver for the fucking millionth time that day. There was no way Bruce didn’t feel that, and Tony cringed internally, but couldn’t muster up a substantial amount of anxiety.

“Alright, come on, Big Guy. While you can still walk.” Tony lightly jostled him.

Bruce sighed, though Tony noted he was smiling, and stood up. He then reached out to Tony with the hand not holding what was left of the joints. With a grunt, Tony took the proffered hand and let himself be hauled to his feet.

Bruce all but fell into bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas. Tony couldn’t help but laugh while he stripped down to his boxers. Usually, he was the one who had to be put to bed. There were countless times Rhodey had helped wrangle him into pajamas, leaving a glass of water and a few aspirin on his bedside table. Hell, he’d had to stay to make sure Tony didn’t choke on his own vomit, a few times.

Tony eyed Bruce’s prostrate form. He wasn’t completely sure what the protocol was for putting someone who was high to bed. However, he did know he probably needed to at least help Bruce remove his shoes. He pulled them off, tossing them unceremoniously onto the floor. Bruce grunted into his pillow in acknowledgment.

Grinning like an idiot, Tony wriggled under the sheets. It was quite a task, since Bruce was laying on top of them. “You know, this’d be a lot easier if you also go under the blankets,” Tony said.

Bruce grunted again. He didn’t move, and for a while Tony thought he must have fallen asleep. Eventually, and with a sigh, Bruce pushed himself onto his forearms and blinked blearily at Tony in the blue haze cast by the arc reactor.

Tony tried his best not to find the way Bruce clumsily swung his feet onto the floor endearing. He watched as Bruce stood up and stumbled a few steps before finding his balance.

Hopping around on one leg, Bruce attempted to pull off his pants. “Mother fucker,” he muttered. Tony just continued to uselessly stare as Bruce ended up falling on his ass.

Tony’s real, undignified laugh cut through the quiet. Clutching his stomach and doubled over, he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“You know, a good friend would have helped me out,” Bruce complained. He finally freed himself of the offending clothing and his button-up, leaving him in boxers and an undershirt.

Tony took his time regaining his breath. “And a better friend would point and laugh,” he finally managed in between chuckles.

By the time Tony finally replied, Bruce was already slipping beneath the covers. Tony noted that they were both keeping a respectful distance between them. Though, Tony found himself wishing he could reach out and touch Bruce. He almost gave in to the impulse, rolling on to his side to face the other man, when he noticed Bruce was staring somewhat unfocusedly at the arc reactor. Tony pulled the sheets up more fully. A pale, blue glow could still be seen through them, causing him to frown.

Bruce blinked, seemingly coming back to himself. Tony could see him arch a questioning eyebrow in the dim light.

“I can put on a shirt, if you want,” Tony offered. He’d had to do it plenty of times for Pepper, back when they were still together.

Bruce frowned. “I like it. It’s like a nightlight.” His words were slightly slurred, whether from the weed or exhaustion, Tony couldn’t tell.

“You afraid of the dark?”

Bruce lifted one shoulder in a pseudo-shrug, his eyelids beginning to droop. “More like what you can’t see in the dark. Don’t cover it. Please. Your heart is brilliant.”

Tony’s mouth went dry. For once, he found himself speechless. He probably had the weed to thank for that. Normally, his mouth would be running a million miles an hour in an awkward situation like this. He was lucky, though, because Bruce didn’t seem to notice Tony’s bafflement. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to have fallen asleep.

Tony laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. There was an undeniable attraction between them, he knew. He’d felt it the instant they’d met on the Helicarrier. But Tony had been completely committed to Pepper, and even now that they had broken up, he was worried about making a move. Bruce was easily spooked. And even if Tony was almost certain the attraction wasn’t one-sided, Bruce played his cards incredibly close to his chest. Tonight though, Tony had slipped up in ways he was sure Bruce would notice, and Bruce seemed to welcome the affection rather than abhor or shirk away from it.

The comments about Tony’s heart had him coming to terms with the fact that this attraction might be rooted more deeply than he’d expected. He didn’t have to dwell on Bruce’s words for too long, though, because sleep quickly took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	3. The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little nervous about this chapter. Normally, I edit quite a few times before posting, and I only edited this once (or twice, in some areas). I'm hoping my over-editing is a symptom of anxiety and perfectionism rather than a necessity. We'll see, I guess!

Bruce sat in silence with his eyelids cracked just enough to peer around the room. Something had woken him up, but he wasn’t sure what. He was a light sleeper and had nightmares more often than not, so waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t that odd. He didn’t remember any nightmares though, and the room was covered in a comfortable silence.

All Bruce could see at first was the brilliant blue from Tony’s reactor. As his eyes adjusted, this light made it easy for to see exactly what had woken him up. A sharp feeling went through Bruce’s heart as he took in Tony’s grimace, the way the sheets had been pulled down and twisted around his legs to fully expose his reactor. Based on the state of the sheets, the nightmare was clearly bad enough that it had caused Tony to toss and turn in his sleep. Bruce watched uncertainly as Tony turned his head to the side so he could no longer see his face. A low, frantic mumbling was pouring from Tony’s mouth. Bruce flinched in sympathy and some other emotion he didn’t dare to analyze.

He pushed himself into a sitting position. He noted that light from the reactor was reflecting off of the metal bracelets Tony wore around his wrists, even in sleep. Bruce knew that was a smart move, but it still upset him to see blatant evidence of Tony’s constant anxiety and fear of letting his guard down, his need to have armor at his constant beck and call. An overwhelming desire to protect Tony swelled within him, and he struggled to convince himself that these feelings were still platonic.

Tony let out a small, pained groan.

Bruce forced himself to focus. He still wasn’t sure what to do, because he knew he’d personally prefer not to be touched in this situation. He didn’t think that was a normal reaction, though. If he wasn’t what he was, if he was _human_ and not full of rage and poison and hurt, he was sure he’d prefer to be consoled. As things were, he’d rather wrestle with the dream than risk someone’s safety. There was once a time when riding out the dream was more dangerous than waking him up, but he hadn’t hulked out over a nightmare in years. Now, startling him awake was much more likely to unleash the Other Guy. Being awoken by a hand on the shoulder or fingers on his chest meant Ross, the army, danger.

He let out a shaky sigh. He couldn’t dredge up his own demons while Tony was still in the throes of his own. This wasn’t about him, it was about Tony. Tony, who found comfort in physical affection. Who didn’t have a beast lurking under his skin that forced him to keep people at arm’s length, and seemed to be constantly taking advantage of that fact. Bruce knew Tony would prefer to be comforted. Whether or not Tony would admit that was a different story, entirely.

Frayed, exposed nerves pulsed beneath Bruce’s skin. He took a deep breath in an attempt to quell them. Physical affection was difficult for him, but it was easier to be on the giving end rather than the receiving. He’d become emotionally attached to more people than he was willing to admit while on the run. That wasn’t all that surprising; he’d always fallen a little too hard a little too fast. It had also taken him an agonizingly long time to act on his feelings before the Other Guy was a part of his life (he now regretted waiting months to ask Betty out. So much time they could have spent together, wasted for no good reason). His aversion wasn’t due to cowardice now, but because it was necessary. He had to protect both himself and the unlucky souls that became the focus of his affection from the monster beneath his skin.

With one last diaphragmatic breath, he placed a hesitant hand on Tony’s shoulder. A small thrill shot through him. He hated himself for it.

Tony shifted in his sleep, turning his head so that he faced Bruce again. He was still grimacing, but his fists uncurled. Bruce began to rub soothing circles onto Tony’s skin with his thumb. His instincts screamed at him to gently scratch at Tony’s scalp and smooth down his hair with careful petting motions. Memories flashed through his mind, memories of lying across from a different brunette who’d captured his heart, and gently carding his fingers through her long, black hair. Guilt crashed over him. This was not the time nor the place for thoughts like that. Bruce resolutely kept his hand on Tony’s shoulder, hoping it would be enough.

As his features slowly smoothed out, Tony turned in his sleep and reached out an arm towards Bruce’s side of the bed. Bruce willed himself not to react as Tony shifted, seeking him—no, seeking _comfort_. Then Tony’s hand came to rest on his chest. Right over his heart. Bruce swallowed hard. His hand strayed towards Tony’s hair, and for all of his hard earned control, he was absolutely powerless to stop it. He continued to run his fingers through it long after the nightmare had passed.

~~~

Tony woke up to the smell of bacon. He slowly opened his eyes, sniffing the air more purposefully. With a grunt, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a random T-shirt. He felt groggy in a way that told him he had slept for a long time, and honestly he had half a mind to go right back to bed. But for right now, that bacon was calling his name.

He padded out of the bedroom and into the main room of the cabin, which contained both the small living room and kitchen. There was a plate of bacon by the stove, as well as pancakes, hash browns, and a skillet full of scrambled eggs. Bruce was sitting on a stool, slumped over with his head on the counter and an open book by his head.

Tony couldn’t keep himself from staring, even as he loaded a plate up with food. Bruce obviously hadn’t slept as well as he had, and Tony was actually starting to grow concerned. He knew better than most what insomnia could do to a person. He also knew that there was always a reason for it, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping Bruce up at night. It was most likely Sterns, though there were a number of things that could be haunting Bruce’s mind to the point of sleeplessness.

His musings on Bruce’s sleep, or lack thereof, were interrupted when he couldn’t find a clean fork. He tried to be quiet while washing one from the sink, but when he’d finished, he found Bruce blinking at him. Large, dark circles clung beneath his eyes, and Tony didn’t like the overall peaked quality his skin had taken on.

“You look like you dropped LSD with a rage monster last night.”

Bruce chuckled, then rubbed at his face with both hands. “I kind of feel like it,” he admitted.

Tony watched as Bruce tried to sit up straight. Bruce immediately stopped, a grimace splitting his face, and suddenly Tony thought there was more to this exhaustion than he’d thought. Bruce looked truly miserable. One of his hands flew to the back of his neck and rubbed at the sore muscles there.

Something was going on, and Tony was determined to find out what. What was it Bruce had said yesterday? Push a little and the damn burst? He didn’t want to do that. It sounded forceful and painful. He had to slowly prod him for information. Finding out why Bruce had decided to practice for an appearance on Chopped seemed like a good place to start.

“So what is this?” Tony asked, gesturing to the ridiculous amount of food. “I’ve heard of stress-eating, but not stress-cooking.”

Bruce hummed. He seemed to have abandoned trying to sit up straight, and was slumped back onto the counter with his head resting face down on his arms. “I like cooking,” he said, his voice muffled. “Why does it have to indicate stress?”

Tony set down his plate, noting how Bruce flinched at the resulting clatter. He thought about how well last night had gone (after his initial misunderstanding and Bruce’s resulting anxiety attack), about the strangely gentle things Bruce had said to him. He wanted to continue whatever the hell it was they were doing, and Bruce seemed surprisingly receptive and reciprocative to his affection. He walked around the counter and stopped behind Bruce.  “Can I touch you?”

He watched as the muscles in Bruce’s shoulders stiffened beneath his blue button-up. But, after a moment, he relaxed again and answered with an “Mhm.”

More carefully than he was accustomed to, Tony placed a hand on Bruce’s back. There was something strangely intimate about feeling the rise and fall of Bruce’s breathing. He slowly slid his hand up the length of Bruce’s spine, until it rested against his neck. A shiver spread through Bruce’s body, and Tony could tell his breathing was coming faster.

“Is this okay?”

Bruce let out a shuddering breath.

The sudden, sinking weight of fear settled in Tony’s stomach. Bruce had a hard time with touch, though he had a suspicion that, in this particular case, his aversion was worse than normal because he was trying to deny the attraction between them. But there was also a very real possibility that he’d read the last three days incorrectly. Coexisting comfortably was such a rare thing, and maybe he had mistaken easy friendship and platonic, yet heartfelt, observations for something more. Regardless, he couldn’t bring himself to move his hand.

Bruce straightened up slowly, turning his head so he was looking Tony in the eye. The expression on his face was the same one he’d had when Tony had first shown him R&D and tried to convince him to stay. It was a yearning look that meant he saw something he wanted, but was scared to have it.

That was all the affirmation Tony needed. He moved his hands so that they were on either side of Bruce’s neck, and started gently digging his thumbs into his tight trapezius muscle.

Bruce closed his eyes, looking both hopeful and resigned. He turned his head so that he was facing straight ahead to give Tony better access to his neck, which Tony took full advantage of. He allowed his thumbs to climb towards the base of Bruce’s skull to work out the tension there, reveling in the involuntary groaning noises Bruce was making. When those muscles finally gave in to Tony’s gentle hands, he began to slowly work down the rest of Bruce’s back, fingers digging reverently into the muscles along his spine.

Tony let himself enjoy the sensation of touching Bruce, of the heat coming off of his body. His fast metabolism made him run a few degrees hotter than everyone else, and Tony marveled at the way it warmed his fingers. A side effect of having a hole gouged out of the middle of his chest and having machinery stuffed inside said hole was chronically cold fingers and toes.

Tony knew that Bruce had many reasons to resist the attraction between them. That didn’t mean he understood why Bruce couldn’t just let himself take something he wanted, for once. Stark men were made of iron, and Tony certainly had an iron will. If he wanted something, if he had a vision, he made it happen. That was why he was constantly nudging Bruce to strut. On the Helicarrier, he could tell the moment Bruce wouldn’t look him in the damn eye even while bouncing ideas off of each other that he was holding back. Being hunted and hated for so long had forced him to mute himself to make others more comfortable. Tony couldn’t understand how he lived like that. This glaring difference between them was a point of tension, as Tony tried to coerce Bruce in to strutting. This time, Tony knew he was going to have to be the one to acquiesce. And he was fully prepared to have to make every move, not just the first one.

Tony let his hands drop away, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He leaned in towards Bruce, unnecessarily pressing his chest flush with his back. “You know, this would work better if you were horizontal,” he said softly in his ear.

Bruce actually huffed out a laugh in response. But he still leaned forward so that they were no longer touching, and turned on the stool so that he could easily look him in the eye. “Tony, this isn’t a good idea,” he warned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to help my buddy out, and say thanks for making breakfast.”

Bruce gave him an appraising look, like he actually was inclined to believe Tony despite how blatantly he’d just been flirting with him. His self-deprecating streak ran even deeper than Tony had previously thought.

Tony stepped back with a sigh. He put his hands in his jean pockets to show Bruce he wasn’t going to continue down this path, not unless Bruce gave him the go ahead. “I think there’s something here. Between us,” he admitted. “And I’d like to explore it.”

Bruce’s resulting smile was so, so sad that Tony would have preferred he’d been shocked. “It’s not a good idea,” he repeated. “I’m not…” Bruce paused, rubbing at his eyes with a hand. “I’m not a good person to be with.”

Tony’s brows shot up into his hairline. That self-deprecating streak was more like a self-deprecating chasm. “Don’t you think that’s up to me to decide?”

Bruce just shook his head.

“Is it the Hulk? Because we both know he loves me.”

“It’s not just him. Bad things happen around me. To me.” Bruce swallowed hard. “Because of me. I don’t want you caught up in that.”

Instead of telling Bruce he thought that was bullshit, instead of insisting that Bruce was being unreasonable, instead of reminding Bruce that everyone on the team seemed to court misfortune, he stayed silent. Bruce wouldn’t be convinced by words. Instead, he stepped closer, one hand reaching out to Bruce’s still being until is hovered next to his face.

“Can I touch you?” he asked gently, earnestly.

Bruce closed his eyes tight against some emotion. He nodded, though, and Tony was left with the impression that Bruce’s resolve was crumbling.

He carefully cupped Bruce’s cheek, closing the space between them with clear intent.

“Tony,” Bruce said wetly and in warning.

The sound shattered Tony’s heart. He aborted his plan, and instead enveloped Bruce in what he hoped was a comforting embrace.

Bruce melted into it, his face hidden in Tony’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Tony wondered if maybe Bruce had fallen asleep. He wouldn’t blame him. He seemed exhausted, and that could easily explain why he was acting so emotional. So vulnerable.

When Bruce pulled away, he refused to meet Tony’s gaze. He headed towards the front door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going for a walk,” he muttered, before exiting without a backwards glance.

Tony sighed. Frowning, he ran a hand through his already sleep-mussed hair. That could have gone a lot better. He turned his attention back to breakfast and began to make a dent in the inordinate amount of food Bruce had cooked that morning. As he ate, he couldn’t shake the feeling of hope that rose within him unbidden, because that also could have gone a lot worse.

~~~

There was only so much Tony could do to occupy himself in the tiny cabin. He put away all the food Bruce had made, replied to his SI related emails, worked on schematics for the nanobots that would comprise his newest suit, and even responded to the few personal emails he found in his inbox.

While he and Pepper weren’t speaking face to face yet (and Tony worried they’d never reach that point) unless they absolutely had to for SI business, they did email each other occasionally. He didn’t exactly relish their platonic conversations that were so obviously pathetic stabs at normalcy. Especially when she mentioned Happy. It was a testament to just how bored he was that he responded to her latest email, asking him how he was, how much longer he thought this mission would take, whether or not Bruce was sick of him yet.

Tony snorted at that. Bruce seemed sick all right, but not necessarily sick of Tony. He’d been so caught up in the intimacy of the massage and their conversation that he’d forgotten to press Bruce for answers about his health. Maybe he was simply fighting a cold…

Tony abandoned that train of thought. He was trying to ignore any and all thoughts that revolved around Bruce. If he started to think about him, he’d start to think about this morning and whether or not he pushed too hard, what he could have done differently, if he’d messed things up between them beyond repair.

He shook his head to clear it, then looked at his watch. He’d woken up in the late morning, he knew, but it still surprised him how quickly the day had gone. And Bruce was still wandering around outside. With Sterns very possibly waiting for an opportunity to attack him.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t do any good. Tony had already resolved to don the suit and go looking for Bruce if he didn’t return before the sun began to set. Still, he should have insisted Bruce take a phone. He should have stopped him. He should have gone after him.

Tony stood up from the couch and checked the contraption Bruce had set up. The readings from today were negative, just like they had been for the previous three days. Out of boredom, he compared all four days of data. Comparing the days side-by-side, Tony noticed there seemed to be progressively less background radiation. Bruce had calibrated the device to detect all high level radiation, but he had increased the sensitivity for a specific frequency range that encompassed the original gamma pulse in order to detect faint levels the pulse may give off. This also kept Bruce from setting the thing off just by being in the cabin.

He wondered why the background radiation would be decreasing. The range didn’t include any alpha radiation, and only the smallest beta radiation wavelengths. That ruled out most potential causes. It could have been something as simple as a calibration error, but he’d have to ask Bruce when he was back.

Tony rubbed at his mouth. Maybe he should call Rogers again. He’d left a message for him about being prepared if he and Bruce decided they needed backup, but Rogers had yet to respond. It was possible Bruce wouldn’t want Tony around after this morning, and Rogers had been SHIELD’s first choice to accompany Bruce on this mission, anyway. He should see if he'd would be willing to switch places with him.

Tony froze, one hand on the door of the fridge, the other reaching inside for a PBR. He didn’t remember opening the fridge. That probably should have concerned him, but he found himself more distracted by the shitty beer in his hand. He hadn’t drank PBR since…had he ever drank PBR? He knew whoever had been here last had left it, and despite SHIELD employing hundreds of agents who all used safe houses, he’d bet a large sum that it was Clint.

It was doubtful that the six-pack would get him more than very buzzed, but he was willing to try anything at this point. And if he was right and the six-pack was Clint’s, then…

Tony actually laughed when he found vodka stashed in the very back of one of the cabinets. That was definitely Natasha’s. He opened the bottle and sniffed. He was a whisky man, but there was no denying that this was excellent stuff. Thank God for Natasha’s impeccable taste in alcohol. After a sip, he surmised that it was smooth enough that he didn’t have to mix it with anything if he didn’t want to. Still, it had less flavor than he was used to. He grabbed the grapefruit juice from the fridge and made himself a Greyhound.

He’d sat down on the couch and begun drinking in earnest when the door opened. Tony lowered his glass to find Bruce staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Tony lifted the bottle of vodka. “Want some?”

Bruce eyed the bottle wearily, prompting Tony to ready himself for a lecture about how he shouldn’t be drinking. He watched as Bruce strode over to the couch and sat down next to him. He hadn’t expected Bruce to take him up on his offer. He’d never seen him drink, not even when the team, sans Thor, had celebrated properly after sending Loki home. So he really didn’t expect Bruce to grab the whole bottle from him and take a large swig.

Bruce’s eyes were closed when he set the bottle down, a small frown and full-body shudder betraying the fact that he didn’t normally drink. Tony didn’t have time to comment on it before Bruce had brought the bottle back to his lips and was drinking once more.

“Slow down there, Big Guy. I can’t imagine you’ve got the tolerance for how fast you’re putting that away.”

Bruce swallowed one last sip of alcohol and grimaced again. “Metabolism. I told you before.”

“Right, right. Can you even get drunk? I know Rogers can’t.”

Bruce shrugged. “I should be able to, if I drink a lot and drink it quickly.” He pointedly brought the bottle to his lips and began drinking again.

Well shit, Tony was going to be stuck drinking PBR after his Greyhound, at this rate.

Despite Bruce’s uncharacteristic desire to get drunk, he seemed okay. Actually, he looked a lot better. The dark circles beneath his eyes were less pronounced, and he wasn’t carrying himself as stiffly. It seemed the fresh air had done him some good. He’d hate to see that ruined by Bruce’s drinking.

“You think you should be compromising your immune system, right now?”

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t respond.

Tony left the couch to grab the six-pack he’d left on the counter, and to avoid Bruce’s unsettlingly neutral expression. “It seems like you’re fighting a cold or something,” he called from the kitchen.

Bruce shook his head. “Can’t get sick. One of the few benefits of the Other Guy.”

“So you’re just inexplicably exhausted,” Tony stated as he sat back down. He cracked open a PBR with only the smallest look of disappointment. He’d been wrong before, he’d had this once at MIT. It wasn’t a fond memory. Still, booze was booze.

Bruce shrugged. “I guess.”

Tony frowned. “Okay, new question, are you going to keep moping and giving me curt answers?”

Bruce drank more of the vodka before answering, “Depends. Are you going to keep asking stupid questions?”

“Fuck you, too, I guess.”

Taking a deep breath, Bruce passed the mostly empty bottle to Tony. His blank mask fell away as Tony accepted the peace offering, and he suddenly looked exhausted. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just a little angrier than normal.”

Tony refused to acknowledge the stab of guilt he felt. “Did you just make a Hulk joke?”

Bruce gave him a tired smirk in answer, and for the first time since he’d come back from his walk, Tony thought they might be okay.

Bruce took the untouched beer from Tony and sniffed it experimentally. A dark shadow seemed to pass over his face, and even after he set it down on the coffee table, he kept staring at it.

“What, you don’t like beer?” Tony asked, though he knew there had to be more to that look than simple dislike.

“I don’t normally drink,” Bruce mumbled. He settled down on the couch, his head coming to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony wasn’t surprised by the admission, but the physical affection did catch him off guard. He forced himself not to comment on it, though.

“I don’t know why,” Bruce continued. “I’m usually a sad drunk. I guess even though I know it doesn’t affect me the same way it affected Brian...uh, my father…I’m still afraid of turning into him. Kinda stupid, now that I think about it.” Bruce drug a hand down his face. “Hulk’s all the proof I needed of that.”

Bruce had never talked about his father before. Tony knew some things, though, from Bruce’s file, and it wasn’t difficult to piece together what Bruce was scared of. “You’re afraid you’ll hurt me,” Tony realized, his tone disbelieving, but soft. It wasn’t just the Hulk or the people who hunted him. Bruce, soft-spoken, brilliant, gentle Bruce, was also afraid he would hurt him.

Bruce swallowed hard, but didn’t look up. “I told you that I fall too hard, too fast. I didn’t tell you that I try so hard not to act on it. I have to be careful not to let people too close so it doesn’t hurt as much.” He let out a shuddering breath as he sat up. He hesitated, fingers twitching and uncertainty flashing across his face, before he decidedly framed Tony’s face with his hands. “I don’t love you Tony, but I know I could. And that’s terrifying.”

Tony placed his hands over Bruce’s own, understanding dawning on him. If they were going to have a shot at this, he had to convince Bruce to stop running. And to do that, he had to match Bruce’s vulnerability in this moment. “I’m not afraid of the same things you are,” he admitted. “You running away, us not giving this a try, that would hurt me more than anything you’re afraid of doing to me.”

Bruce pulled his hands from Tony’s face, anguish overtaking his expression. “That’s not fair.”

Tony hitched a shoulder. “Maybe not. But it’s the truth.” He paused, rubbing at his mouth before diving into even more dangerous waters. “I’m not trying to trivialize your fears. I understand they’re real to you, even if I think they’re unwarranted. But I’m just not afraid of you or the Hulk or whatever supposed bad luck you think you’re going to bring to my doorstep.” Tony downed the last of the vodka, hoping liquid courage would carry him through this, and kept his eyes on the floor. “I didn’t know how I was going to survive after Pep left,” he continued, and his heart hammered dangerously behind the reactor. “I mean, I expected it. I think if I hadn’t known it would happen eventually, it would have broken me.”

“Tony—”

“But you know, everyone leaves. Eventually.”

Tony brought his gaze back to Bruce, only to find Bruce staring back at him. He wondered what, exactly, he saw in his expression. Whatever it was, it seemed to be breaking Bruce’s heart. Tony watched as he shifted on the couch so his whole body was facing him. He didn’t dare breathe as one of Bruce’s hands cupped his cheek once more. Bruce’s eyes were darting all over his face, cataloging everything Tony had allowed to bubble to the surface. Those eyes became softly determined and, in a surprisingly decisive movement, Bruce straddled his waist.

Tony closed his eyes as Bruce moved closer, his thumbs caressing his cheekbones in such a tender gesture it made Tony shudder. When Bruce pressed his soft lips to his own, he found he was content to let Bruce lead the kiss.

Bruce kissed him tenderly, his lips simply pressing against Tony’s own and his gentleness not quite masking the way he thrummed with barely restrained ferocity. He kissed him like a man bound to his restrained emotion, and Tony wondered what would happen if those emotions were left unchecked. A small, insecure part of him also wondered if this was Bruce’s way of apologizing for leaving.

Tony gently pulled away. “Is this an admission?” he whispered.

Bruce’s eyes were achingly open and steely with resolve. “More like a promise.”

Tony closed his eyes, relief and affection washing over him. He moaned, not bothering to silence himself, as Bruce threaded a hand through his hair and kissed him properly, this time, lips moving slowly, achingly, against his own. When Bruce pulled away, Tony simultaneously felt both contentment and need wash through him.

Bruce stared at him, a teasing thumb tracing Tony’s lower lip, and his expression more focused than it had any right to be. “I still think this is a bad idea,” he said.

“And I still think you’re wrong,” Tony responded breathlessly.

Bruce’s lips quirked up into a rueful smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Tony ignored the self-deprecating humor in favor of nipping playfully at Bruce’s collarbone, his mouth roving over his neck, his jaw, his ear, relishing the way Bruce’s breath hitched and sped up. “Bed,” Tony mumbled against his cheek.

Bruce pulled away, his expression apologetic but heady. “Not tonight, not like that.” He eyed the empty bottle of vodka. “I need to be in total control.”

That made sense with the Other Guy, and even though Tony truly wasn’t afraid of Bruce or the Hulk, he also knew that part of that trust was because Bruce knew limits and exercised an unfathomable amount of self-control. Tony wasn’t about to test that, for his sake and for Bruce’s. Still, he worried Bruce’s newfound resolve would crumble by tomorrow, and they’d be dancing around each other like nothing had happened.

“You’re not going to change your mind tomorrow, are you?”

Bruce kissed him again, his teeth biting at Tony’s bottom lip with just the right amount of pressure, before pulling back and answering. “I might,” he admitted, though he sounded unsure. He frowned, something like shame present on his face. “I should,” he amended. “But either way, I’m not going anywhere. Even if I decide us pursuing… a romantic or sexual relationship is a bad idea, I’m not going to stop being your friend.” Bruce looked away, embarrassed. “You, your friendship…already means too much to me.”

Tony couldn’t keep himself from kissing Bruce again even if he’d tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	4. Withdrawal's a Hell of a Drug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck fuck fuck I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated!! Thank you to everyone who's still reading, and who left wonderful comments and kudos to keep me going!
> 
> There's a lot of Marvel science and PLOT in this chapter.

Tony rolled over on the bed with his eyes still shut. It was definitely too early to wake up, and for once he felt his body trying to pull him back into the sweet nothingness of sleep instead of automatically rousing. He had almost managed to go back to sleep, when he realized Bruce wasn’t in bed. He pushed himself up onto his forearms, blinking sticky sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on Bruce’s half of the bed, content to be the little spoon for once, but now Bruce was nowhere to be seen.

Tony yawned, settling back down. Bruce was a grown man and, buzzed or not, he could get up at a God-awful hour if he wanted to. Hell, he was probably just hungry, since he hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner—had he even eaten breakfast?

And yet…

Tony sighed, getting out of bed. He noted that it was much hotter than when he’d first fallen asleep, and the bedroom door had been left ajar. Soft light was spilling into the hallway, accompanied by the crackling of the fireplace.

Tony was honestly dumbfounded. He didn’t say anything at first, taking a moment to just observe. Bruce was in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket and looking sickly. Shivers wracked his hunched form, and his hair was plastered to his head with what could only be sweat. And was he…was he mumbling to himself?

Tony took a step towards him. The floorboard creaked.

Bruce startled, whipping around and staring at Tony with wide, unfocused eyes. “Oh.” He seemed so relieved, his whole body pitching forward as he slumped in on himself. “It’s you. Good.” He looked around the room frantically. “They’re gone.”

“Who’s gone, Big Guy?” Tony kept his tone calm and placating. In truth, he had absolutely no idea what was going on and was freaked out by Bruce’s behavior. He didn’t seem well. But, according to the man himself, he couldn’t get sick because of the Hulk. So what the hell could be making him act like this?

“Brian. And Ross. Your light made them leave, I think.”

“Uh…huh.” Tony folded his arms across his chest. He was at a loss.

“I was cold, so…” Bruce paused, squinting. He scrubbed at his eyes. “Tony?” He was looking around the room and at Tony like he was taking in his surroundings for the first time.

At Bruce’s more lucid tone, Tony decided to take another step forward. “Yeah. You okay?”

“Um. Yeah. I just, uh.” He looked around, taking in the living room and the fire. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I think maybe I just had an unfortunate psychedelic experience.” He didn’t sound very sure.

Tony was likewise unconvinced. “Are you even high? I didn’t’ think you’d smoked last night.”

Bruce frowned, looking at the fire once more. “No,” he admitted quietly. “No, I didn’t.”

Tony finally closed the distance between them and sat down. He was careful to make sure they weren’t touching.

“Sleepwalking?” Tony suggested.

“Possibly. That wouldn’t explain why I’m so cold, though.”

Tony made to touch Bruce’s forehead, but thought better of it at the last second. He let his hand hover and asked, “May I?”

Bruce stared at him a moment longer than necessary. A small smile made the corners of his lips quirk up, despite his obvious distress. Finally, he nodded.

Tony pressed his hand to Bruce’s forehead.

Bruce immediately shivered. “Your hand is freezing.”

“You’re hot, not cold.” That was good. Bruce always ran hot due to his increased rate of metabolism. His proximity to the fire would have made his skin even hotter and explained why he looked so flushed. Tony removed his hand and placed it tentatively on the small of Bruce’s back. “A nightmare could have made you think you were cold?”

“I really don’t know.” Bruce sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, then grimaced. “I need a shower.”

“Yeah, maybe in the morning?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to go back to bed.”

Tony gave a hum of acknowledgment. “You should at least try,” he insisted. He knew insomnia could be a bitch, but now he was certain something else was going on with Bruce. That was something to discuss after they’d slept, though. Even if he was sick, sleeping would help. His insomnia was most likely making whatever this was even worse.

“You’re right,” Bruce conceded, though he didn’t seem happy about it.

“Always am.”

“I have to wait until the fire is out, though.”

Tony rolled his eyes. The fire was practically out, as it were. Bruce must not have tended to it very well in his disoriented state. Tony stood up— he didn’t miss the way Bruce’s body tried to follow his to maintain contact— and went to the sink. He filled a bowl with water, then dumped the water on the pitiful remains of the fire. It sizzled and went out completely, leaving the room bathed only in the blue glow of the reactor. Tony set the bowl down on the coffee table, then offered Bruce a hand.

Bruce let himself be pulled to his feet. He disentangled himself from the blanket, now damp with his sweat, and followed Tony back into the bedroom. He never let go of Tony’s hand.

Once they were settled again, Bruce quietly muttered, “It might have something to do with the Other Guy.”

“Altered state of consciousness?” Tony asked, not missing a beat.

“Right. Sometimes when I wake up, when I haven’t had a chance to really take the reins yet, it’s both of us. Maybe that extends to sleepwalking. Usually, I have to wrestle with him immediately after a nightmare, but if we were still mostly unconscious--” he was interrupted by his own yawn.

Tony took that moment to interject. “That’s a sound theory. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.” It wasn’t a question, and Bruce seemed to take the hint.

Blearily, Tony stared at Bruce as he laid back down in bed, pulling the covers only up to his waist. He wanted to hold him close, but knew that would only serve to overheat him further. After a whispered “Can I touch you?” and Bruce’s resulting nod, he carded his fingers gently through Bruce’s hair. It didn’t take long before Bruce began to doze peacefully, and Tony finally let himself drift off.

~~~

The cabin was peaceful this early in the morning, the only noise Tony’s rhythmic breathing. Bruce listened for a while. He was pleasantly warm under the covers, shared body heat leaving him feeling cozy, and though his body and mind both ached, he found himself content. He didn’t want to leave the bed, but Tony had mentioned something about background radiation decreasing over time, and that meant he needed to look over the data as soon as possible.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, biting back a groan so as not to wake Tony, and walked into the living space. The cabin was freezing now that he wasn’t under the covers. That was odd. Even if Bruce didn’t have a higher than average body temperature, the spring weather had been pleasantly warm, until now. More troubling, however, was the way his body shook with the simple strain of walking, and the overwhelming feeling of nausea he felt climbing ominously up his throat.

Bruce all but collided with the table containing his lab equipment. His legs were shaking badly, and he was certain he was about to either keel over or vomit. His body decided to do both. His legs gave out, and as soon as he was on his hands and knees, his stomach rebelled. Pain radiated from his forearm where he’d cut it on the metal table on his way to the floor. It was overshadowed by the violent way he was retching. Panic overtook him when the vomiting wouldn’t stop. Soon, he was dry heaving, his abdominal muscles screaming at him from overuse.

Tony was right. Tony was right, and he was always wrong, goddammit. Bruce dry heaved for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been slumped over on his side, clammy hands long since unable to support his weight, but it felt like an eternity.

His body seemed to be determined to expel his very organs. There were drops of crimson blood spewing from his lips, but not much else. Bruce was fairly certain he was vomiting violently enough that he’d torn his esophagus. He hoped that was the case, anyway. If not, the blood was indicative of something much worse, and he didn’t have the energy to dwell on that.

He watched in detached, morbid fascination as the blood from his forearm dripped down and over his spread fingers and onto the floor, mingling with the vomit and blood from his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. His radioactive blood made his body uninhabitable for viruses and bacteria. What was wrong with him, then?

Another dry heave wracked his body. He’d forgotten how fucking awful it was to be sick. Wiping the fresh blood from his mouth, he realized he was going to have to decontaminate the cabin. That meant he’d have to call SHIELD. Bruce closed his eyes. They were going to have a field day with him like this.

“Bruce?”

Bruce bit back a groan. He really didn’t want Tony to see this, either, especially after his episode last night. At least this time it was morning. Or at least, he thought it was.

“Bruce? Oh, holy shit,” Tony said, his voice very close and yet sounding far away. Bruce found he couldn’t quite focus on it.

Hands were on him. He jerked away in surprise. When had Tony sat down next to him?

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine,” Tony reassured, his tone so calm, Bruce was quickly forgetting how upset he’d seemed when he’d first seen him. “Can I touch you?”

“Blood,” Bruce warned, before another dry heave ripped through him. It had him panting once it was over, dark spots blossoming across his vision.

“Right. Right, I’ll be right back.”

Tony was gone, and Bruce was alone again, his body rebelling against him with every fiber of its being. The overwhelming silence was interrupted by some sound. He couldn’t focus on it long enough to figure out what it was, only knew that it was behind him. It must have been Tony. That, or he’d imagined it. Bruce’s thoughts felt sluggish as the world was consumed by black spots. Before unconsciousness fully descended over him, he wondered why his extremely radioactive blood hadn’t set off the device.

~~~

It took Tony all of three minutes to run into the bedroom, put on his bracelets and the suit, and return to Bruce. Or, more accurately, return to where Bruce had been. Tony frantically scanned the cabin for any sign of his…friend? Boyfriend? Partner? None of those things sounded right, and Tony’s panicking mind was taking in information too quickly to dwell on something as inconsequential as labels.

The door was ajar. Tony flew through it, his unhelpful thoughts reminding him that Bruce had been in no shape to sit up on his own, let alone walk, and prompting him to stop in front of the cabin and stare at the vast expanse of forest. Someone had taken him, had taken his Bruce. Tony grit his teeth. This was all his fault. If he’d kept his bracelets on in the shower, he could have summoned the suit instead of leaving the room. His hand curled into a metal fist.

He walked back into the cabin. The crimson spots on the floor and foul stench of vomit were all that remained of Bruce. “J, analyze Bruce’s blood and scan for traces of it.”

“Analysis complete. This does not appear to be Dr. Banner’s blood.”

Tony frowned. The blood had come from Bruce. Tony knew this without a doubt, because he’d watched in horror as blood oozed from a cut on Bruce’s arm as he tried to throw up, only for his lips to become stained crimson. He also knew that Jarvis had to have a good reason to make such a claim.

“Gonna need an explanation, J.”

“There is hardly any radiation emanating from the blood on the floor. Prior information regarding Dr. Banner suggests that if this were his blood, I would be detecting high levels of gamma radiation.”

That could explain why Bruce was sick. That knowledge wouldn’t matter, though, if he couldn’t find Bruce and rescue him from his captor, who was surely Sterns.

Tony flew out the door. “Scan for it, anyway.”

“There may be some to the left,” Jarvis informed him, even as a path was brought up on the HUD. “The radiation is difficult to trace at such a low frequency and dose, and with the limited equipment in the suit.”

“Cross reference with visuals indicating blood splatter.”

“Of course, sir. With cross-referencing, there is an 83% chance that Dr. Banner is along the suggested path.”

“Patch me through to SHIELD.”

Natasha’s face immediately appeared on the HUD, next to the path Jarvis was continually laying out.

“Stark?”

He didn’t bother to ask when she’d arrived at the Helicarrier, or if the rest of the team was with her. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she could help. “Sterns took Bruce, and his blood isn’t radioactive. I don’t know exactly how that affects the Hulk, but he might not be able to defend himself right now, and—”

“We’re on our way.”

Before Tony could respond, something hit him hard in the center of his chest. He was blasted backwards, colliding hard into what could have only been a tree. Head aching, he forced his eyes open. The HUD was crackling, trying to stay online even as electric sparks emanated from the suit itself. He could barely move the suit, and very suddenly, he couldn’t see out of it.

He groaned as he moved his arm without the aid of hydraulics. With difficulty, he managed to press the emergency release button on the faceplate and promptly struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. A short, green man with a grotesquely large head was staring at him with unrestrained glee. Only a few feet away from him lay an unconscious Bruce.

Despite the overwhelming green of the forest and the man in front of him, Tony’s vision filled with red. “Give him back, Sterns,” he hissed. He had no idea how Sterns had taken out the suit. He appeared unarmed, though Tony knew that couldn’t actually be the case. However, he was willing to bet that he could take him in a fist fight. He looked sickly thin.

“Should I pretend to be impressed you figured out my identity?” Sterns asked casually, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. How he managed to put that thing on over his massive head, Tony had no idea.

“You should be impressed by the fact I haven’t killed you already,” he grit out, already reaching for the manual releases on the rest of the suit.

Sterns laughed, actually laughed. “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish that?”

“I figured I’d wait it out. That massive skull of yours is going to crush your spinal column, eventually.”

Sterns rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Hilarious. The benefits of my superior intellect far outweigh any supposed benefits you receive from your good looks.”

“I’m flattered, but my type isn’t ‘megalomaniacs with freakishly disproportionate foreheads,’” he quipped. He took that opportunity to press the last few buttons that would release him from the suit. Wasting no time, he ran headlong towards Sterns with his fists at the ready.

Sterns brought something out of his pocket. Tony had half a second to worry that he had a gun, before something transparent rippled through the air and hit him square in the chest. Flat on his back, Tony wheezed and willed the world to stop spinning.

“Do you like it?” Sterns asked. “Psyionic energy pulses. It comes in handy when lower lifeforms start running their mouths, with the added bonus of acting as an EMP.”

Tony listened to the crunch of brush as Sterns neared him. He forced himself to stand up. The suit was still down, and he was otherwise unarmed. He had to think of a way out of this.

“You’re hardly a threat without the suit,” Sterns continued. The device was still in his hands, and now he was close enough that Tony could see it looked like garage door opener. “I didn’t expect much from you, and somehow I’m still disappointed.”

Tony put his fists back up, assuming a defensive stance Natasha had taught him before they’d all gone their separate ways. “What do you need Bruce for?” Tony hoped he was still dumb enough to answer the question. “You’ve clearly got some gamma in your blood, why not take samples from yourself?”

“That’s like asking why I don’t use saline solution to make salt crystals when the salt mine is easily within walking distance.”

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. The way Sterns was talking, it sounded like he was unaware of the lack of radiation in Bruce’s blood. “You need Bruce because it’s easier?”

“He’s the original source,” Sterns clarified in an agitated tone. He was talking to Tony as if he was explaining something obvious, rather than spouting megalomaniacal nonsense, and Tony was just too dense to understand. “I need untainted samples with the original gamma concentration.”

“You might find that difficult. His blood is hardly radioactive.”

Sterns laughed. “Of course. I needed to keep the Hulk at bay, somehow. All I have to do is keep his blood in an area without gamma dampeners, and it’ll return to its normal level of radioactivity.”

Gamma dampeners. Fucking gamma dampeners. Tony wanted to tear his hair out at that simple explanation, though he wouldn’t give Sterns the satisfaction. He kept his expression carefully neutral. “What do you plan to do with it?” he asked, probing for more information. “You can’t be planning to use it on yourself. If your head gets any bigger, it’s going to burst open.”

Sterns grinned and lifted the device in his hand. Tony dropped his defensive stance and immediately sprinted towards Bruce, hoping that Sterns’s aim wasn’t very good. Those psyionic blasts packed a punch, but he was a pro at getting back up. He could afford to be hit by a few more. The sound of splintering wood echoed around him as blasts missed their target and hit trees, instead. He was so close to Bruce, now.

He heard the rush of wind behind him before he felt the blast. It hit him on the shoulder, causing him to stumble forward and sideways. He quickly regained his balance, but as soon as he had, he felt another rush of wind. Nothing hit him, though. Perplexed, Tony attempted to run once again and immediately found he couldn’t move.

Tony seethed as Sterns entered his field of vision. He continued to struggle, but to no avail. Sterns was grinning. This close, Tony could detect the manic glint in his eyes. He also quickly noticed that Sterns’s other hand was also holding a remote of sorts, and it was pointed unyieldingly at him.

“Now, I could just bring you with us, mostly unharmed and conscious,” Sterns said, pretending to mull that over. “But where’s the fun in that?” The hand holding the device that had emitted the blasts deposited it back into the pocket of his hoodie. He circled Tony, seemingly sizing him up.

Tony ground his teeth together when he disappeared from view.

“You really aren’t much without the suit, are you?” Sterns repeated his earlier sentiment in a bored tone. The direction of his voice informed Tony he’d be in his line of sight again, soon. He couldn’t help but strain his eyes to the side in an effort to see what Sterns was doing.

“Well,” Sterns began, reentering Tony’s field of vision. “Except for this.”

Tony watched, willing himself not to betray the growing panic he felt, as Sterns placed a hand on the reactor that glowed through his shirt. He suddenly felt naked, exposed, without that added layer of gold-titanium alloy his suit provided.

“This is quite extraordinary for someone of inferior intellect.”

Despite the danger the situation presented, Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes. God, this guy just wouldn’t shut the fuck up!

Sterns stared at the reactor for a moment, before surprisingly deft fingers took hold of it and twisted just so. Tony gasped as it automatically protruded from its casing. A jumbled mantra of “it’s still attached, calm down, it’s still attached, I’m going to fucking kill this son of a bitch, calm down,” played through his head as he watched Sterns continue to stare at his heart.

“Fascinating.”

And just like that, Tony’s heart was pulled from him. He willed himself not to utter a sound. Pain, insidious and dull for the moment, began to creep across his chest. He gasped, suddenly aware his body wasn’t receiving enough oxygen. A feeling like his sternum was being crushed. Black spots. He couldn’t lose consciousness. Not now! His eyes flicked to Bruce’s still form. He had to get them out of here!

Unconsciousness descended over him even as he felt Sterns slot his heart back into place.

“So pathetic without that damned suit,” he thought he heard Sterns’s echoing voice mutter.

Then nothing.

~~~

Everything was quiet, save for the call of some birds above them. Natasha cursed as she surveyed the cabin door left wide open and the distinct lack of her normally chatty friend. She glanced at Clint, who looked back at her with an expression that confirmed her own assessment: neither Tony nor Bruce were here.

Natasha made her way into the cabin, knowing Clint would follow and watch her six. There was vomit on the floor. She frowned. Based on Tony’s frantic call, before he’d been suddenly disconnected (he wasn’t picking up her calls, and she had to stymie her own, rising panic), he’d said Bruce’s blood wasn’t radioactive. That was most likely affecting his physiology, and she had to assume the vomit belonged to him. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be in any condition to fight, and if he couldn’t bring the Hulk out…

“We’ll find them.”

She turned to Clint, letting her shoulders sag as she sighed through her nose. “Of course, we will,” she said matter-of factly. Because they would. They’d both burn down the world for the people they cared about. The members of this ragtag team made the cut.

Satisfied, Clint’s eyes moved to survey the scene. He narrowed his eyes, stepping towards the mess on the floor. “There’s blood.”

Natasha closed the distance between them. There was indeed blood speckling the vomit on the floor, and splatters of it leading out of the cabin. It was possible they could track Bruce that way, and hopefully Tony would be with him.

Natasha was going through the cabin’s threshold, when a shrill, rhythmic beeping filled the silence. She whipped around, all but running towards the source. The computer hooked up to a machine --likely the machine Bruce had constructed to find Sterns-- was flashing, calculations flitting across the screen. She didn’t understand most of it. She did, however, recognize coordinates when she saw them.

Her mouth curled into something between a smile and a growling flash of teeth. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up to see Clint grinning.

“Sterns.”

Natasha nodded. The coordinates memorized, she walked briskly towards the door. “Come on,” she called, not looking back. They didn’t have a moment to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	5. Performance Enhancing Drugs Can't Enhance What You Don't Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! This story definitely isn't abandoned.

There was the bitter taste of bile in his mouth, accompanied by a metallic tang. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, wincing at the sharp pains that confirmed he had bleeding sores along the inside of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. Why they’d formed, he had no idea.

It was hard to think, his body switching rapidly between hot and cold flashes. His very bones ached, and the throbbing behind his eyes made just the idea of opening his lids force a moan from his throat.

“Oh, Banner. How the mighty have fallen.”

The fact that there was another person with him, seeing him like this, made him want to flinch. He forced himself not to, knowing it would only make him feel even worse. His brows knit of their own accord, though, and he hissed through clenched teeth as it doubled the onslaught of pain in his head.

Bruce knew that voice. He knew it, and it was sent a wave of dread through him, despite not being able to place it. Everything sounded so distorted and far away. Sleep tugged at him, but Bruce resisted. He needed to remember the voice.

“I expected better, truly. Even given my superior intellect, I would have thought you and that adrenaline junky masquerading as a genius would be a bit harder to beat. Ah, well.” The owner of the voice sighed theatrically.

At the mention of Tony, Bruce forced his eyes open. He immediately winced, eyelids closing automatically, but he forced himself to open them again, going slowly to help his pupils adjust. Everything seemed too bright, despite the fact that Bruce could tell he was in a room with no windows. The only light was spilling through the doorway, obscured by a figure with a bulbous head.

“Sterns,” Bruce breathed. The name caught in his throat, and he ended up hacking. Curling onto his side to lessen the pressure, he continued to cough, spit and blood flying from his lips as his entire body screamed with pain. When he’d finished, he let himself remain in the fetal position, breathing raggedly.

Sterns shook his massive head. “Pathetic.”

When Bruce could, he forced himself to uncurl his body. Despite its protests, he managed to push himself up into a sitting position, though his vision swam, and for a moment he genuinely wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to pass out again.

“Why?” It was a simple question, spoken shakily, but it was all Bruce could manage, at the moment. He needed to know what, exactly, Sterns’s plan was. Bruce remembered that the man loved hearing himself talk, and doubted that much had changed, given the whole, megalomaniac schtick.

“Come now, Dr. Banner. Use that famous brain of yours.”

Easier said than done when he felt like he was being eaten alive from the inside out. Bruce grunted in response, his body shaking hard enough that he was struggling to remain upright.

“We are both unfinished products,” Sterns explained, apparently tired of waiting for a response. “Your body, Hulk’s body, is godlike, as is my intellect. With your blood, I will be able to finish what destiny began.” His expression was unhinged, a manic smile accompanying impossibly wide eyes. “With the Hulk’s strength combined with my divine intellect, I will become unstoppable!”

Bruce wanted to roll his eyes, but the threat of worsening his migraine kept him from doing so. Sterns was clearly unhinged. It didn’t even sound like he had an actual plan past trying to force a second gamma mutation. That wasn’t how Bruce’s blood worked, and he expected that, on some level, Sterns knew that. Still, he felt compelled to tell him.

“There’s no way…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and breathing hard through a wave of pain. “You can’t know that’s what my blood will do to you.”

Sterns actually did roll his eyes. “I’m not taking advice from a lowlife who couldn’t even recognize symptoms of gamma withdrawal.”

Gamma withdrawal. Suddenly, everything clicked. Sterns must have somehow found the SHIELD safehouse before they’d even arrived, and had planted gamma dampeners around its perimeter. That was why he’d felt sick ever since arriving, why he’d felt better after walking around in the woods, and why his blood was no longer radioactive enough to set off the device he’d built.

“Ah, now you understand. Surely, you’ll agree I bested the both of you, proving I’m superior.”

Both…Bruce forced his leaden body to twist at the waist. Tony’s bound and unconscious form was lying next to him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a few vials of blood and a Geiger counter.”

Bruce watched as Sterns turned to leave, his whole being screaming at him to move to Tony, to check on him and make sure he wasn’t injured.

With his back now to Bruce, Sterns paused. “Enjoy ‘Iron Man’s’ company while you can,” he said, his voice dripping with ridicule as he uttered the alias, “because I plan to kill him with my bare hands, once I have my new body. The first causality of my new regime, followed by a second.”

Sterns turned to look over his shoulder, that manic grin firmly in place, once again. “I’m going to lock you up in here and let the gamma dampeners finish you off slowly, all the while knowing it’s your fault that Tony Stark is dead. I never would have touched him, if he hadn’t aligned himself with you.” He tilted his head, the movement exaggerated by its sheer size. “I’m a vengeful god, but I’m not unreasonable. I only dispose of those who oppose me.”

Bruce moved onto his stomach, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. His entire body shook and ached with exertion, but he forced himself into a standing position. Black splotches bloomed across his vision, and his ragged breathing threatened to drown out all other noise, but still, he stood. Fists clenched, and a fire in his eyes that dared anyone to try to hurt the man behind him.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid would happen if Tony became involved with him. Well, he’d be damned if he didn’t make anyone who wanted to hurt Tony’s life a living hell, regardless of their motivation for doing so. He growled at Sterns, the sound having nothing to do with the Hulk.

Sterns turned back around to fully face him, his eyes taking in Bruce’s shaking form, the hands fisted at his sides, clenched jaw, and flaring nostrils. He simply raised an eyebrow in response. “Oh, Banner.” He shook his head in pity.

Before Bruce could respond, Sterns was bringing something out of his pocket. It looked like a dial, of sorts. With a smirk, Sterns twisted the knob.

The effect was instantaneous. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. His entire world erupted into pain, and he was barely aware of Sterns’s voice.

He tried to focus on his words, but could only make out fragments against the pain. Someone was boiling him alive, his spinal fluid bubbling until his brain was cooked from the inside. The idea of moving wasn’t even entertained, all of Bruce’s energy being devoted to not crying out or falling unconscious.

All he could gather from Sterns’s last monologue was something about SHIELD blueprints, gamma dampeners, and “turned all the way up.”

The moment the door closed, Bruce blindly hauled himself across the floor until he collided with Tony, latching onto his unmoving form tightly. That was all he managed before unconsciousness claimed him, once again.

~~~

Tony groaned. Mind still fuzzy, he tried to stretch out into a more comfortable position, only to find that his arms were met with resistance. His brain immediately went back online. His eyes flew open, but he was met with more darkness. He could feel that there was someone holding him tightly with sweat soaked limbs, their chest stifling the light of the reactor.

“Bruce?” he whispered.

The only reply was a small whimper, but it was all the answer Tony needed. He would know that voice anywhere.

Rage coursed through him as he realized they had both been captured by Sterns, and though he loathed to do it, he knew he had to break Bruce’s grip in order to find a way out of here. “I’m sorry, Big Guy, but I need you to let go of me.” Tony wished he could soothe him, gently pry his arms off and run a hand through his hair, but his hands were bound behind his back. Instead, he simply listened as Bruce’s breathing changed, becoming harsher and more ragged. He hoped that meant he was waking up, though he hated that Bruce would be in even more pain, once he was conscious.

Bruce’s breathing only became harsher, shifting from ragged to labored, and was now accompanied by grunts and cries of pain. They were desperate sounds that Tony knew Bruce would never make, no matter how much pain he was in, if he were fully conscious.

“Shhh,” Tony tried to soothe, voice a hushed whisper. He longed to pull him into his arms with every fiber of his being, wrists twisting against their bonds in maddeningly futile efforts. “I’m going to break us out of here,” he promised. “Get you help. I know what’s happening, now, it’s dampeners.” He was rambling, but he didn’t know what else to do.

The pain-filled noises were interrupted by a gasping inhale. “Tony,” Bruce whispered, his voice shaking and stilted, betraying his ongoing agony.

Relief flooded Tony. “I’m here, beautiful. I need you to let go so I can get us out of here.”

“Hurts,” Bruce grunted, and for a moment, Tony was worried he wasn’t lucid enough to understand what he was saying. He definitely wasn’t fully aware, if he was admitting to being in pain. After a long moment, he felt Bruce’s arms pull away, the movements jerky and punctuated by grunts.

The moment Bruce released him from his solid grip, he scooted backwards, putting enough distance between them that the arc reactor could illuminate the room through his shirt. The light fell directly onto Bruce, causing his eyes to snap closed. He could see, now, the way he gritted his teeth in pain, and that his clothes were sweat soaked. That wasn’t the most concerning thing, though. Tony realized his entire body was covered in what looked like open wounds. Blood, dark and glistening in the blue light, oozed from wounds on his hands, his neck, and even his face.

Tony took a steadying breath against the tears in his eyes. He needed to focus. He had to free his hands, and then he could check Bruce over and figure out how to get them the hell out of here. Righting himself into a sitting position without the use of his hands was, luckily, easy for him. He then leaned his torso backwards, pulling it forward quickly and using the momentum to haul himself into a stand. He had to pause to breathe, his body still recovering from being without the reactor for that long, agonizing moment.

The way the bond was cutting into his flesh informed him that he was dealing with a zip tie, so once he’d regained his breath, he bent both of his elbows. He pulled his wrists as fair apart as he could manage, lifted his arms behind him, and quickly slammed them back down against his lower back. A grunt passed through his lips as he repeated the action, the zip tie cutting into his skin. He rolled his eyes, bringing his arms down once more and finally breaking the plastic latch.

A zip tie. What an amateur.

Tony flexed his hands, trying to force circulation back into them and his arms, as he knelt down next to Bruce. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be heaving, now. Tony didn’t stop to think. He pulled Bruce into his arms, wrenching a groan from him, and sat with him in his lap, facing forward. As Bruce continued to dry heave, he ran a hand through his damp curls, eliciting a soft sound that, for the first time, didn’t sound pained.

“I’ve got you, Big Guy,” Tony mumbled against his neck.

When Bruce had finished dry heaving and collapsed backwards into Tony’s embrace, he huffed. It took Tony a moment to realize it was meant to be a laugh, all of Bruce’s previous, anguished noises still ringing in his ears. He had a feeling he was going to be hearing those in his nightmares for a long time to come.

“’m sorry. Dampeners,” Bruce mumbled, still only semi-coherent. It sounded like he was trying to explain, despite the fact that Tony had already mentioned the dampeners himself.

Why he was apologizing, Tony had no idea. “That’s not your fault.”

“Could break us out, but…” His eyelids drooped, seemingly worn out, already.

Tony knew Bruce had McGyvered his way out of similar situations in the past, and quickly filled in the blanks. He couldn’t hulk-out, or break them out that way, and he felt guilty. Well, Bruce wasn’t the only one who could be useful in a situation like this.

He shifted Bruce in his arms, laying him back down on the ground as gently as possible. He made sure to prop him up on his side, just in case the next round of dry heaving didn’t turn out to be so dry.

A thought occurred to him. Bruce’s blood wasn’t radioactive now, but if he left the range of the dampeners, it could become radioactive again. That was what Sterns’s whole plan hinged on. He took stock of himself, shocked to find that the only blood from Bruce seemed to be on his shirt, which he quickly shucked off. It hadn’t seeped through, thankfully.

He bunched the shirt up into a sort of makeshift pillow and slipped it beneath Bruce’s head. “You just rest. I’m going to take care of us,” he promised.

Bruce’s expression twisted into a shaky smile, and he mumbled something in response. Tony thought it sounded a lot like he was fondly repeating the word “us.”

Despite the situation, despite Bruce’s condition and his own, unbridled rage towards Sterns, Tony felt his stomach flip. He might, he decided, very well be falling in love with Dr. Robert Bruce Banner. Unfortunately, that was something to overthink at a later date.

With his shirt off, he could easily see the room around him. He scanned it for anything that would help them escape. He could always just kick the door down, but that would be loud, and he didn’t want Sterns to know he was free. There didn’t seem to be anything he could use to pick the lock, though he did find duct tape. Tony ran a frustrated hand through his hair, coming to terms with the fact that he’d either need to kick the door down, or wait for Sterns to open it and try to ambush him. Neither option sounded promising, given the fact that Sterns could render him immobile.

There was one thing he could try, though it was ridiculous. Still, the simplest solution was often the best solution. Tony turned the doorknob. It twisted easily beneath his hand.

What a fucking amateur!

Tony was trying to be grateful that Sterns was stupid enough to not lock the door of the room containing his hostages, but he couldn’t help but also feel insulted. Had Sterns expected him to twiddle his thumbs, somehow rendered completely useless without his suit?

That’s exactly what he expected, Tony realized. Actually, this could work to his advantage.

~~~

Tony had always known Sterns was a mediocre scientist at best, but he hadn’t realized the guy was an arrogant chucklefuck who underestimated literal geniuses, until now. Honestly, he was fuming. How dare this man with the IQ of a goddamn walnut walk in and hurt both him and Bruce, and then just assume they’d take that lying down.

It had been ridiculously easy to sneak past the room Sterns was in. He’d stopped, briefly and with his hand over the reactor, to see what he was doing. He seemed to be excitedly talking to himself while staring at two vials of what had to be Bruce’s blood. He wasn't talking to himself, Tony realized with wide eyes, but to the blood. Not only was the guy an idiot, he was clearly unhinged.

There was a computer in the room, hooked up to some sort of device that was likely giving off gamma radiation. Tony figured that was how Sterns had been sending the gamma pulses, in the first place. He also noted that the device was connected to the vials of blood by a long apparatus that extended from it to the middle of the room, opening up to a transparent box that covered the vials. Sterns must have been trying to use the gamma to reduce the time it would take to make Bruce’s blood radioactive again.

With a scowl, Tony kept moving. He quickly deduced that they were in a tiny bunker. Probably someone’s abandoned doomsday shelter, he figured. There was a ladder that led to a metal hatch, which seemed to be the only way out. Mentally cursing, he moved towards one of the two unopened doors, hoping whatever was behind it would help him take out Sterns.

Once again, Tony didn’t know whether to laugh or wring Sterns’s neck. The idiot had brought his suit here, with him. Wasting no time, Tony soundlessly shut the door and knelt down next to the suit. It wasn’t fully operational, yet. The arc reactor was quickly gaining momentum, generating more energy with every passing moment, but without additional help from sunlight hitting the emergency solar panels, it was going to take a while before it was fully operational. It took a massive blast from an EMP to affect the arc reactor at all, so he wasn’t surprised to find that it had been temporarily disrupted, rather than rendered ineffective.

Not knowing when or if Sterns would enter this room, Tony quickly set to work removing a hand repulsor, as well as an entire arm. He knew his armor inside and out, and so it didn't take long to complete the task.

Something caught his eye as he turned to leave. It appeared that, because Sterns was an idiot (as he’d already hypothesized, gathered evidence for, and amassed into a fucking essay in his head to prove his point), his bracelets were sitting right next to the suit. He slipped them into his pocket, and left the room, quickly returning to Bruce.

After checking on Bruce, and finding that he’d passed back out, he began modifying the repulsor. It was difficult without the necessary tools, but he would make do. In minutes, he’d converted it into a mini EMP. He grinned at the device, ready to beat Sterns at his own game. Walking the perimeter of the room, he used it with the intention of frying the gamma dampeners. It was a small enough EMP that it wouldn’t affect the arc reactor at all, but still powerful enough to take out dampeners. At least, in theory.

A flash of electricity and subsequent smoking informed him that he’d been successful. He took out four of them, relief flooding him as he walked the perimeter a second time without any effect. He’d found them all, then.

Returning to Bruce’s side, he carded a gentle hand through his hair. He was still out cold. Tony remembered how much better Bruce had seemed the day he’d gone for a walk out in the woods. Without the gamma dampeners, his symptoms should eventually improve. It wouldn’t take long, but it would definitely take a few hours, and those were hours they couldn’t afford to spare. He would have to move Bruce up the ladder and through the hatch himself, then, and for that, he needed whatever remote Sterns had used to bring them here. There was no way the guy could have moved them both himself, and if he could create a remote that kept people from moving, he’d bet that he could make one that moved people, too.

Tony hoped the suit would come back online soon, and he’d be able to call it to himself, but suit or no suit, he was going to kick Sterns’s ass. With a few modifications and a whole lot of duct tape, he managed to hook the arm up to the reactor in his chest. Powering the entire suit would likely kill him, but he could easily power a single arm without endangering himself too much. With his bracelets around his wrists and his arm encased in armor, he entered the room containing Sterns.

Tony skipped the one liner for once, and immediately shot at Sterns’s giant head.

Yelping, Sterns ducked, but not before being hit square in his forehead. The force knocked him backwards, but it didn’t knock him out.

Tony ran towards him as he struggled to right himself. He needed that remote. A psyionic blast rippled towards him, and he jumped out of the way. Unfortunately, he also needed to stay conscious. He wondered how long they could go at this, him firing the repulsor, and Sterns shooting at him with psyionic blasts. It felt futile, neither one of them gaining any sort of foothold, despite Tony moving continuously. He couldn’t stay in one place, or he knew Sterns would immobilize him.

Tony wasn’t sure how long they’d been playing this stupid game of cat and mouse, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Recalculating, he moved the repulsor last minute and hit the vials containing Bruce’s blood.

Sterns screamed in rage, hitting Tony square in the chest with a blast before he could reposition his arm. It knocked him backwards, leaving him gasping for breath. He struggled to his feet, despite knowing he’d likely be rendered immobile before he could manage it.

Somehow, he stood before another attack came. His heart dropped when he saw why. The distraction hadn’t worked, and Sterns was staring, his arm outstretched, at a levitating Bruce. Tony had been wrong about the remote, then. It seemed Sterns had actually gotten something out of his mutation, after all.

Mind working to figure out the best way to force Sterns to release Bruce, Tony spared a moment to hope he had accomplished whatever he’d been trying to do at the computer. Then Sterns sent Bruce flying backwards against the wall, his head hitting it with a sickening thump, and Tony’s vision went red.

~~~

Fighting. That’s what Bruce was hearing. It sounded like…repulsor beams. When he finally managed to force his eyes open, he noticed that he was alone, and the door had been left open. His head didn’t hurt as much, he thought, though it still throbbed, and part of him couldn’t tell if he was imagining the reprieve.

He quickly lost that train of thought at the sound of another repulsor and a crash. Bruce forced himself to his hands and knees, sweat beading on his brow from just that. Somehow, he managed to crawl through the door and into the harsh light. He followed the sounds, quickly arriving at another room.

Tony. Sterns. They were fighting, and Tony only had part of the suit. Bruce stifled a groan, eyes closing shut as he mentally reached for the Hulk, only to be met with silence.

There had to be something he could do to help.

He zeroed in on the computer. Even with his brain muddled with pain and exhaustion, he recognized that Sterns must have been sending the pulses using that computer, and whatever device he’d hooked up to it. Mind made up, he pulled himself into the room, staying low to the ground, and crawled over to the computer.

It was a long shot, but if anyone was searching for them at the cabin, this would hopefully grab their attention. He quickly figured out the software and sent a flurry of gamma pulses, setting the machine to continue that on a loop.

There was a crash, and suddenly Bruce found himself suspended in midair. Telekinesis, he mused underneath the spike of adrenaline. Then he was flying through the air, head hitting something hard as he slumped to the ground.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d just been sitting there, useless and aching. He blinked, but continued to see double. There was something…a train of thought he couldn’t follow. He needed to move towards the computer. A device. Trusting his struggling brain, he attempted to return to the computer.

He heard Tony and Sterns yelling. He tried to focus as he moved, his brain and body struggling.

“It wears you out, doesn’t it?”

Tony’s voice, taunting.

“Why waste my own energy, when I can create a device that saves me the trouble?” Sterns countered.

“Yeah, but your device isn’t strong enough to move things, is it? Face it, your greatest achievement was a whim, and you can’t even duplicate it.”

A growl. Shit, Tony was really pissing Sterns off.

“You’re too weak to even take advantage of your powers. No wonder you want a stronger body. And here I thought it was to take the strain off of your neck.”

It took a few tries, due to the double vision, but Bruce managed to grab onto the computer desk and use it to haul himself to his feet.  The device. Right, it could pump radiation into the room, now that the apparatus was broken. Sterns must have turned it off using his telekinesis or something, because it wasn’t producing anything. He forced his eyes to focus on the computer screen, staring until he could make sense of what was on it. He quickly reactivated the device, and moved to stand directly in front of it.

He closed his eyes, already feeling the effects of the gamma. It would take a while for him to absorb enough radiation to be healthy again, and even longer before the Other Guy could come out. It was something, at least.

~~~

Tony was lucky Sterns tired so quickly from using his telekinesis, and that it took him a long time to actually lock on to a target. The remotes he’d created were actually more affective for pointing and shooting, but Tony was dodging them well. He’d gained some footing, closer to Sterns, now. If he timed it right, he’d be able to tackle him. He just needed a distraction. That, or he needed to keep this up for just a little longer. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but he could feel in his gut that the suit was almost ready.

He flicked his wrists, but the suit didn’t come. A little longer, then. As tired as Sterns obviously was, Tony was quickly approaching a similar level of exhaustion. He needed to come up with that distraction, and fast.

An arrow whizzed past him.

As Sterns desperately moved to halt the arrow’s path with his remote, Tony lunged at him. The force of it knocked the remotes from Sterns’s hands, and Tony grinned for the first time in what felt like hours. He must have looked unhinged, breathing hard with wide eyes, his un-armored fist covered in dried blood from his wrist and poised to strike.

“Don’t fuck with me or my Bruce ever again,” he spat.

Not giving Sterns time to reply, he brought his fist down with as much force as possible. Sterns was knocked out immediately.

Tony slumped, shaking out his hand. He didn’t dare look away from Sterns, though, in case he didn’t stay down for long.

“What can I say, except you’re welcome,” Clint’s voice sang, and Tony could tell by the way it was becoming louder that he was walking towards him.

He snorted. “Keep the Disney songs for the ride back.”

With Clint kneeling next to him and handcuffing Sterns, Tony allowed himself to look away. He bolted upright, eyes scanning desperately for Bruce, since they hadn’t found him unconscious and siting against the wall, like he’d expected.

“Right here, Stark,” Natasha called. She had an arm around Bruce, and was turning to look over her shoulder at him.

“Is he okay?”

Natasha nodded. “Relatively. I think he’s concussed.”

Tony started to close the distance between them, but Natasha shook her head. “He’s absorbing gamma, right now.” She’d be fine, what with her Russian spin on the super-soldier serum, but Tony knew he shouldn’t get too close, no matter how badly he wanted to. Despite popular belief, he did actually have _some_ self-preservation instincts.

“I’ll turn it off,” Bruce slurred, and Tony was positive Natasha was right about that concussion.

After Bruce turned off the device, Natasha sat him down in the computer chair and checked him over. She even removed his now slightly irradiated blood via special decontamination wipes. Clint, at the same time, was injecting Sterns with something.

Tony felt himself relax a bit more, no longer worried about Bruce or about Sterns waking up again. He looked back and forth at each Wonder Twin, confused but grateful that they’d found them. “How did you know we were here?”

“We got your message,” Clint answered, still working on securing Sterns for transport.

Tony didn’t know what message they were talking about, but he could guess. He didn’t have time to clarify, because his arms were suddenly full of concussion-clumsy scientist.

“Sent it,” Bruce mumbled against his neck, confirming his assumption. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Tony threaded a hand through Bruce’s hair in a soothing gesture, but also to gently probe for a bump (he was sure Natasha had already checked it, but he’d been lying to himself earlier about not being worried about Bruce, anymore). He found a large one in a matter of seconds, though it was clear the skin hadn’t split open.

“Cute,” Natasha remarked with a small, but genuine, smile.

“Cute? I lost the betting pool,” Clint grumbled as he passed them with Sterns’s unconscious body. He mumbled something about keeping it in their pants for two more weeks.

Tony ignored them both in favor of pressing a kiss to Bruce’s temple. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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